


Sweet Frequencies

by L_Greene



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angela Ziegler and concept art!Mercy are siblings, Angelo Ziegler is in this, F/F, M/M, Some Swearing, Top!Hanzo, alcohol use, and not a single straight character in sight, back when Mercy was a black man, baker!Hanzo Shimada, bottom!jesse, brief tobacco use, canonical depictions of autism-related sensory overload, canonically bisexual Jesse McCree, canonically gay Hanzo Shimada, canonically transgender genji shimada, everyone's got jokes, genji is an absolute shithead, god that would have been amazing and i love it but those are tags for another day, gratuitous discussions of muffins, have some unrepentant fluff, jack is a grumpy texter, jesse and his entire family are fucking NERDS, not a goddamn one, peep the updated content rating, radio host!Jesse McCree, that's the fandom name for the original Mercy from the concept art, yeah that's a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-01-28 21:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12616296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_Greene/pseuds/L_Greene
Summary: AU! The one where Jesse is a radio host obsessed with the pastries from Ninja Bakery, a shop owned by the Shimada brothers. Jesse is in love with Hanzo, who only has eyes (ears?) for Justice the Cowboy. This is pretty much just unrepentant fluff. E for language and sexual content.Winning project for National Novel Writing Month 2017!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Tumblr prompt for myself. Follow my Tumblr for updates! Link on my profile.
> 
> (I'm assuming the Zarya comic where she calls Sombra "Olivia Colomar" is accurate and that is her real name, which is why I call Sombra "Livi" and "Olivia" throughout.)
> 
> This fic has Tumblr tags now! I'm following the tags "sweet frequencies" and "sweet frequencies mchanzo" where I occasionally post updates, but also you can feel free to post stuff in those tags if you want as well!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story now has fanart from the incredible [orangeadekid](http://orangeadekid.tumblr.com) on Tumblr! I stuck the image right here in chapter 1! You should definitely go to his blog and check out more of his art because it is GLORIOUS.

Jesse woke up to gentle, serene humming and the smell of coffee brewing. Eyes still closed and intending to fall back asleep, he sighed and rolled over—and rolled right onto the floor.

He grunted and pulled himself into a sitting position. He wasn't in his bedroom. He'd been sleeping on his sofa. Blinking through the sunlight that streamed in through the shades over his window, he realized just how unusual it all was—the humming, the coffee, the sofa in his living room. He lived alone.

The humming stopped abruptly, giving way to a lazy giggle. “Smooth one, Jess,” the voice said, and the night before came back in a rush.

Livi's birthday. He, his sister, and her fianceé had gone out partying last night to celebrate, along with a few others of Livi's friends. The original plan had been for Livi and Satya to go back to their apartment, but he vaguely recalled that his own apartment was closer and he'd valiantly offered to sleep on the couch to let them have some privacy. He hoped they hadn't made him regret that.

Tonight, they were supposed to have another celebration, this time a family dinner with their parents, but in the meantime, it looked like Livi had found his coffee.

He flung off the blanket and rubbed his eyes. “Papa taught me that one,” he half-joked, tugging his shirt down. The jeans and boots he'd worn last night were in a pile under the coffee table. He must have just kicked them off and crawled under the blanket.

By his watch, he still had a few hours left before he had to go to work. It would be enough time to shower and stop by Harmony Coffee for some breakfast and a specialty drink. He probably should have just had coffee here, but he was really craving something cold and sweet with a mountain of whipped cream. As talented an amateur barista as Livi was, she couldn't pull that off without a blender.

When he finally gathered himself enough to wander into the kitchen, Livi was sitting at the table, her hands wrapped around a still-steaming coffee mug. Her dark hair, where it wasn't shaved almost completely down on the left side, stuck up at odd angles. “Morning. You look rough,” she mumbled, as if she herself wasn't the very picture of the word. She gestured to the coffee pot. “You gonna have some?”

He kissed the side of her head and sat down. “Nah, I was gonna stop at Harmony Coffee on my way to work. Is Satya up yet?”

Livi shook her head, a small smile starting to tug at her mouth at the mention of her fianceé. “She hardly ever gets a chance to sleep in. I'm not going to wake her.” Next to her coffee mug, her phone chirped. She didn't bother checking it.

“Fair enough. You two gonna be okay here by yourselves?”

Livi's smile turned sardonic. “We're adults. I think we'll manage. And before you ask, yes, I remember we're having dinner with Papa and Dad tonight. Dad already messaged me to remind me. I bet you got one too. We'll probably leave here around lunch. Want us to bring you anything to the studio?”

Jesse yawned, popping his back. “Mmm, let me think about that an' get back to you.” He usually simply ordered something from whatever sandwich shop they sent Jamie to, but sometimes he just didn't feel like eating another sub for lunch. He reached up to ruffle Livi's hair and she batted his hand away with a smile.

He absconded from the kitchen to the bathroom for a quick shower, which he desperately needed after last night. He couldn't remember the last time he'd danced that much, although the copious alcohol had most likely contributed to that. After he'd changed into clothes he hadn't slept in the night before—a different T-shirt, a light blue flannel with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, different jeans, but the same boots—and had come back out, Satya was finally awake, blissfully pestering Livi in the kitchen. Her arms were wrapped around Livi's waist from behind with her chin on the top of Livi's head. He was pretty sure he saw Satya steal a sip from her mug, too—something Jesse was certain he wouldn't have gotten away with. Then again, Satya _was_ her fianceé. They were so absorbed in each other that he didn't feel like bothering them, so he left as quickly and quietly as he could.

Even though he'd had more to drink than he'd anticipated, the sun didn't quite murder his eyes, although he wished he'd brought his cowboy hat. (He got a lot of strange looks wearing it, but it was about the _aesthetic_ , which he had a duty to maintain.) He _was_ starving, though, and by the time he got to Harmony Coffee, only a ten-minute walk from his apartment, he needed the coffee and some food to put in his stomach.

He'd barely taken two steps in when someone with green hair and an orange headband pushed past him, their arms laden with sweet-smelling boxes. The boxes were also green and stamped with the same logo: a blue dragon wearing a ninja headband—much like the headband the bearer of the boxes wore—with the words “Ninja Bakery” around it. Jesse had heard of the place. It was fairly popular in town, run by a pair of brothers, but he'd never been there or tried anything they'd made before. Maybe it was time to remedy that.

“Zen!” the green-haired ninja called, cutting through the line. “Delivery!”

“He's in the back right now,” one of the baristas said. “Just set them on the counter and I'll get them in a minute.”

“But I need a signature,” the ninja protested, somehow managing to balance the half-dozen boxes in one arm while waving a clipboard with the other.

“And I'm the manager. I think I can handle it.” The barista, who Jesse had seen enough to know her name was Hana, finished ringing up her customer, a tall, dark-haired woman who looked stern despite being no older than thirty-five.

The ninja didn't look happy, but he obviously couldn't argue with her logic. At his crestfallen face, Hana chuckled. “Come on, Genj, you see him every day.”

“Not _every_ day,” the ninja said with a pout. Jesse hid his grin behind his hand as the ninja reluctantly handed over his clipboard for the manager's signature.

Just as she finished signing and handed it back, another barista joined the four that were already behind the counter. The new arrival was one Jesse had seen a few times before, a kid who looked like he was barely out of high school even though Jesse knew he was actually in his third year of college. The kid had his head shaved and a serene smile as he sailed up to the counter and began unboxing the pastries that the ninja had brought over.

“Good morning, Genji,” he said pleasantly, and the ninja's face cracked into a wide grin.

“Hey, Zenny!”

“What can I get you?” Hana asked Jesse, jarring him back to reality.

“Ah, sorry. Mocha frap with two shots of espresso in the largest size you have.” He eyed the muffins that Zen was arranging inside the display case. “Eh, make it three shots, an' one of those... maple cinnamon chocolate muffins.” It sounded interesting—he wondered if it would be any good.

“Sure thing. Whipped cream on the frap?”

“As much as you can safely fit on it.”

“Name?”

“Jesse. J-E-S-S-E.”

“Okey-dokey. Ten-seventy-five. Genji, _you_ might not have work to do, but Zenyatta does, so why don't you leave him to it? I think he can handle it from here,” Hana added, crossing her arms as Jesse dug out three quarters from the pockets of his jeans and handed them along with a ten over to her. Despite her words, there was no real annoyance in her tone.

Genji stuck his tongue out at her, winked at Zenyatta, and sailed back out the way he came, sans muffins.

And also sans clipboard, which Jesse noticed about five seconds after he'd left. “Uh, he left his—”

“Ugh, not _again_ ,” the manager said with a groan. “He always does that.”

“Probably because I always end up bringing it back,” Zenyatta said, remarkably calmly. He finished arranging the muffins—leaving one of the maple cinnamon chocolate ones out for Jesse—and began breaking down the boxes neatly.

“Think he's got a thing for you?” Jesse half-joked.

“No, I don't think so,” Zenyatta said. “I know so.”

Jesse laughed and took his muffin before turning to eye the seating area.

There were a few tables still open, one of which he would definitely need to use. The muffin was _huge_ , as big as his fists put together. It was no wonder only four fit in each box.

Another glance at his watch told him he still had about an hour before he had to be at work and two hours before he went on air, leaving him plenty of time to enjoy his coffee and muffin. It was nice to not feel rushed right now. He might have to start waking up a bit earlier.

Deciding he didn't want to wait for his coffee, he took a huge bite of the muffin while it was still warm—Genji had clearly brought them over hot out of the oven. For a second, Jesse wasn't sure what he was tasting, but then the flavors really kicked in. It was a good thing he was already sitting down, or else it would have knocked him on his ass.

It was the most delicious muffin he'd ever eaten. Actually, it was probably in his top-five most delicious foods of all time. It was absolutely worth the three dollars and fifty cents he'd spent on it—hell, he'd be willing to pay ten bucks just for the muffin. He never would have thought that cinnamon, maple, and chocolate would go so well together, but they did, and whoever had had the idea for these must have been some kind of culinary genius.

He was so absorbed in the muffin that he completely forgot about his frap until he heard a barista yell his name across the coffee shop. Feeling only slightly embarrassed, he scurried back to the counter to collect it. “Do you get these muffins every day?”

“Yes,” Zenyatta said, halfway through another customer's order. “We have a standing delivery order from them.”

“Where is the Ninja Bakery, anyway?”

“Just down the street,” he said, raising his arm and pointing to his right. “We only get muffins here but they sell much more at their location.”

“Hmm.” Jesse slurped on his frap and wandered back to his table. He might just have to stop by there. Maybe tomorrow, when it was Saturday and he wasn't so pressed for time.

He checked his phone and realized he'd somehow missed the three text messages from his parents—most recently, about ten minutes ago.

_Jesse, just wanted to remind you about dinner tonight. 1830 at Julio's. PR. Dad._

“Jesus,” Jesse muttered. He loved his dad—it was impossible not to like Jack Morrison—but he could be extremely micro-managing at times, a habit which could be irritating, especially this early in the morning. It was supposedly, according to his papa, a holdover from his time in the military, but Jesse wasn't entirely convinced. His papa had also been in the Army for twenty years, and Gabriel Reyes wasn't nearly as controlling as his husband.

The next message was from about a half an hour after the first one.

_Jesse, Olivia says you're awake. PR. Dad._

Jesse sighed. Another annoying tendency his dad had was the habit of starting nearly every message with the recipient's name and ending it with “Dad,” as though Jesse didn't have his number saved in his phone. The “PR” was his dad's shorthand for “please respond,” and that also grated on his nerves a bit.

The most recent one was fortunately _not_ from his dad.

_Did the couch swallow you whole? Your dad says you haven't answered his messages. I told him to relax, but you know how he is._

Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose and typed out a reply. _Sorry, Papa. Kind of in a rush this morning. Didn't even see his messages until just now. Tell Dad I know about dinner. And can you talk to him about his texting etiquette????? He comes off like a dick._

He was about halfway through his muffin (and still savoring every bite) when his papa's reply came in—a series of laughing emojis followed by skull emojis, along with the message _I would but I don't think it's just his texting etiquette. What are you up to? Work?_

Jesse snorted with laughter into his frap. He knew his papa was joking, though. One of the things Jesse liked best about his parents' relationship was how comfortable they were with making fun of each other and themselves, even after being together for nearly thirty years. He hoped he could have a relationship like that, although he suspected his parents may have set the bar for him too high. _Work soon. Sitting at Harmony and eating this orgasmic muffin._

By the time the next reply came through, he was nearly done with his frap. _I'm worried!! Please tell me you didn't fuck the muffin!!!_ The message was accompanied by an emoji of a muffin.

Jesse nearly choked on the bite of muffin in his mouth. _No, not yet. Not actually sure if I want to fuck the muffin or fuck whoever made the muffin. I feel like the second one might be easier. Please advise??_

He was pretty sure the espresso in his frap had made him loopy. Still chuckling to himself, he finished off the muffin and gathered up his trash. As he walked out the door, his phone buzzed again.

_What kind of muffin? Who made it?_

Jesse glanced down the street in the direction of the Ninja Bakery but decided against it. He didn't really have time to linger anymore, not if he wanted to make it to work on time. _Maple cinnamon chocolate muffin. Not sure who made them, but they were freshly delivered from some place called Ninja Bakery right down the street. Haven't been there but I think I might have to. And I might have to marry whoever made this muffin._

He wondered if Genji was the one who'd made the muffins. Jesse kind of doubted it—most likely Genji was just the delivery person—but it would make an interesting twist. He just couldn't believe he'd lived so much of his life without trying these muffins before. What if they were all this good?

_Ninja Bakery? I feel like I know that name from somewhere. Weird. Well, let me know how your proposal turns out. But maybe hold off on the wedding for a few more years. I had no idea your sister's was going to cost so much._

“Yikes,” Jesse muttered. It was true—Livi had complained a few times about the expenses for the wedding, even after trying to cut whatever they could. Both hers and Satya's wedding clothes were relatively simple designs—Satya's sari was by necessity more ornate than Livi's dress—but they were still shockingly expensive. Even with cash transfusions from Satya's parents and the Reyes-Morrison family, Jesse was surprised at just how much weddings could cost.

_Yeah, I don't think you need to worry about that. We'll probably elope to Vegas or something, do it really cheap and come back for a reception or something. We could have a barbecue. I know Dad will use any excuse to break out that awful apron of his._

Jack Morrison-Reyes had been given a barbecue apron seventeen years ago that read RAISE THE STEAKS, and every year since then from May fifteenth to September tenth, he practically lived in it. It had tactical pockets for seasonings and clips for tongs, and Jesse sometimes suspected that he loved it more than he loved his family.

_He needs his hobbies. Between his grilling and those video games he's picking up, I think retirement suits him._

“Yeah? And what hobbies do _you_ have, Pops?” Jesse muttered, but his reply read, _Fair enough. What are you two up to, anyway? Besides bothering me, I mean._

_Ha ha. See if you get an invite to the next family dinner, you damn ingrate._

Jesse's only reply was a photo of himself with a cheesy smile.

He showed up to the radio station a few minutes before eleven. As usual, the first few rooms were swarms of activity with people shouting and bumping into each other. He slipped past the chaos and made his way toward the back, to the office he shared with another show host. It was always quieter back there.

He preferred it back here, away from the constant noise the producers had to deal with. In the back, with all the soundproofing and people using their headphones and hardly any talking, he felt much more at-peace. His favorite time of the day was when he was sliding into his booth and the ON-AIR light flickered on, and people tiptoed past the doors to avoid being picked up by the station's microphones. It made the rest of the cacophony worth it.

He knew eventually he would either get a bigger show with a wider distribution, or, more likely, interest in the show would wane and he would end up in the producer or director's chair himself. He hoped for the former but expected the latter, although a lot of radio hosts nowadays were bringing their shows to podcasts. That was another option he was considering, and he was pretty sure there was a decent audience for it. His current show was already recorded just for that purpose, with each new episode released the day after it was live on the radio. Still, he wondered if he would be able to actually just make it a career.

That being said, no matter how much he liked his current show, it was, at best, a talk show. He played songs a few times during the show—mostly hits from the 80s, although his music taste was pretty eclectic thanks to his papa—to give his voice a rest and let himself relax, but for the most part, there was no real theme to it. He just happened to be someone who read off some news and gave his opinions on it, and sometimes talked about his personal life and his hobbies on the air.

He briefly considered the muffin he'd eaten this morning and wondered if he should give it all up to start a culinary reviewing podcast. At least people would know what they were getting into when they listened to his show.

“Good morning!” Orisa, his officemate, said as he opened the door. She gave him a cheerful wave and went back to editing her script. She hosted a show on robotics where she discussed projects she was working on and took questions from callers looking for advice. She also recounted her past exploits as a Battle Bots captain. Her show was still relatively new—it had only been on for two months or so. Right now, it held the slot from eleven-thirty to noon, just before Jesse's full-hour show.

“Mornin'. Anythin' excitin' happen before I got here?” Jesse dropped into his seat and unbuttoned his flannel. The walk over had gotten him all sweaty, but a few more minutes in the blasting air conditioning would cool him down pretty quickly.

“Not really. One of the microphones in booth three shorted out, so Jamison has to fix it. Also, I believe Miss Zaryanova wanted to go over the music you wanted to use today.”

“Why do you call her that? You know she said to just call her Zarya, right?”

Orisa made a nervous humming sound. “I know. It is just difficult for me to get into that habit. I'm still new at this.”

“You'll get used to it. Did you have any coffee this mornin'?”

Orisa nodded, finally setting down her pen. “Perhaps more than I should have.”

“Thought so. You seem a bit more jittery than usual.”

“I was in Mr. Lin—er, Torbjörn's office for some advice, and he had that coffee pot in the corner...”

Jesse chuckled wryly. Torb had a coffee urn in his office that held sixty cups of coffee, and the man frequently ran through the entire urn in a day. Some of it was due to the number of people who came through his office and grabbed some, but a significant portion was downed by Torbjörn himself. His coffee consumption was legendary and one of the reasons Jesse never came to work before ten-thirty—he'd never seen Torbjörn without at least three cups of coffee in him, and frankly, he was terrified to do so.

“How much did you have?”

“Four of those,” Orisa said, gesturing to the travel mug on the corner of her desk and standing up, tapping the bottom of her script against the desk to straighten the papers. “But somehow I managed to finish my script while disassociating most of the time. I didn't know I could astral project.”

Jesse snorted with laughter as she left, leaving him to his own devices. It was fine because he needed a distraction-free environment to write his outline, and right now, he only had fifty minutes before he was supposed to go on-air.

He skimmed some news sites for anything of note happening, but aside from various world leaders making asses of themselves, there didn't seem to be anything significant. He also didn't want to devote any air time to this particular administration—anything they did would be talked to death by more mainstream news sources. _Personal day it is, then._ It was a Friday, too, so he didn't expect there to be much.

Could he fill up the show with just talking about the muffin? Maybe if he told the whole story leading up to it... that would kill about ten minutes and then he could spin a song while he waited for call-ins. Another ten minutes of taking calls followed by another song and then sponsor stuff afterward, and then he'd move on to other things. He could make it work. He didn't really want to call his technique “inspired bullshitting,” but that's exactly what it was.

Hunched over his notebook, he was halfway done outlining his show when there was a knock on his door. He looked up to see bright pink hair and a sleeveless muscle shirt. “Mornin', Zarya.”

“Hello. Your playlist for today was approved and Rutledge has all the tracks ready to go. We'll be ready for you at noon.”

“Great, thanks. I should be ready by then, too.”

A look of mild alarm flickered across Zarya's face. “You're not finished yet?”

Jesse made a noncommittal noise and waggled his hand. “Almost done.”

“What have you been doing, updating your Instagram account?” It might have just been the annoyance in her tone, but her Russian accent seemed thicker than usual.

“No, but thanks for reminding me—I completely forgot!” He pulled up the Instagram app as Zarya sighed, rubbing her temples. “Wanna get in on this?” He gave her a goofy grin, angling his phone's camera toward her while still keeping his face in-frame.

“Alright, fine,” she said. She crouched down next to him and made a snarling face at the camera while he arranged his features into a terrified expression and glancing to the side. The camera shutter clicked and they both relaxed. “Quit dicking around,” Zarya added as she stood back up.

“Not a chance,” Jesse called after her as she disappeared down the hall. He scrolled through the filters, picked a greyscale one, tagged Zarya's account (champion_zarya_1980), and posted it. The likes started pouring in—the first from Livi and Papa—and he went back to his outline.

By eleven-thirty, he was finished, so he gathered up his phone, outline, and playlist, and headed to his recording booth. He had plenty of time to grab some coffee from Torbjörn's office and get ready for his show, even if he stopped to pester the sound techs.

Torbjörn's coffee urn was just about halfway empty, but the man himself was nowhere to be found so Jesse took his time filling his work mug and adding a bunch of sugar to it. He wandered back to his booth, next to the one where Orisa was currently recording, and quietly closed the door behind him. Through the window that separated his booth and the sound booth, he could see Jamie leaned back in a swivel chair, headphones on and his feet kicked up on Mako's lap.

Jesse put on his own headphones and pulled his microphone toward him, tapping his pencil on the desk. He made faces through the glass at Mako (who ignored him) and Jamie (who did not, and in fact, returned the gesture) until eleven-fifty-six, just as Orisa's show wrapped up. Mako cued the song that separated _Orisa's Bot Banter_ and _Showdown with Justice the Cowboy_ , and Jesse waited. Back when he'd first gone on the air, he'd been nervous every time his show was about to start, but by now, he was so used to it that his blood pressure never spiked.

As usual, the station clock hit noon just as the song ended and Mako pointed at him, and Jesse launched into his opening monologue, over-exaggerating his drawl for his listeners. “Step right up, it's _hiiiiiiiiigh noon_ , an' you know what that means. This is _Showdown_ , an' I'm your host, Justice the Cowboy.” His biological parents had seen fit to saddle him with the name “Jesse Justice McCree.” He'd liked it in grade school, hated it by high school, and then slowly grew to like it again after Gabriel and Jack had adopted him. Now his middle name made a halfway decent radio host handle, so he stuck with it. Besides, it fit pretty well with the cowboy persona he amplified for the show.

Personality-wise, there wasn't a huge difference between Jesse the person and Justice the Cowboy, except that Justice was a bit more outgoing and loud than Jesse was. Jesse was of the opinion that if your on-air persona was too different from who you really were, it would come off as really disingenuous, and it wasn't fair.

“Happy Friday, y'all. I'm lookin' forward to keepin' you company as the last few hours of the work week tick by, so let's get right to it.

“I had a minor religious experience this mornin', an' I need to tell y'all this story, but I have to start with last night to really set the tone. On Wednesday, I told y'all that today is my sister's birthday, so we went out with her fianceé an' a few of their friends to celebrate. I gotta tell ya, you don't wanna try to go shot-for-shot with Livi—that's liver failure waitin' to happen. So here I am at this club, drunker than I've been in four years...”

He continued on, explaining the mayhem they'd caused, wheeling around to getting back to his apartment, passing out on his sofa, and waking up that morning. He talked about how he'd considered having coffee and breakfast at home but decided against it and opting to go to Harmony Coffee (which he actually named in the show since Harmony was one of their sponsors).

“...so I walk into Harmony, not knowin' what was about to befall me, an' this goddamn ninja sails in with what smells like heaven in a box. I'm serious about the ninja thing, too—all these boxes came from this place called Ninja Bakery, which are two words you never expect to hear together, but that's not the weirdest thing to happen to me ever, so I let it go. I'm hungry still an' whatever's in the boxes still smells real good, so I figure I'll get my usual frap an' one of these muffins. These things are _huge_ , nearly the size of my head, right? They got a few different kinds, an' I decide I wanna be adventurous an' try somethin' new. I go for this kind I never considered before, maple cinnamon chocolate. Weird, right? Like I said, never considered those together before, but I'm always down to try somethin' new.”

Jesse heaved an overly-dramatic sigh. “Y'all. I don't think I've ever eaten a better muffin in my life—an' that's not innuendo, stop laughin'.” He was partly talking to his listeners but also talking to Jamie, who had nearly fallen out of his chair, heaving with silent laughter. At least, it was silent to Jesse—based on the way Mako was rolling his eyes, Jamie was probably giggling at full volume. “Y'all need to try that. Listen, I've never been to this Ninja Bakery before, but I'm gonna have to go pay 'em a visit an' see what else they got, 'cause that muffin was more than just a muffin, it was an _experience_. I can't describe it an' still do it justice—you just gotta try it yourself. Anyone else been there before an' wanna give me some recommendations? We'll be takin' calls in a few minutes.” Jesse pointed at Mako, who gave him a thumbs-up. “But before that, I'm feelin' an eighties mood today, so for my sound guys, our first song is a classic—'Down Under' by Men At Work.” He gave out the radio station's number, and almost immediately, the phone lines lit up.

As he finished talking, the song started playing, and Mako crossfaded to unmute the music and mute Jesse's mic. Once Mako gave him another thumbs-up, Jesse took off his headphones and ruffled his hair. So far, so good. He would take a few seconds for some coffee and then take the calls on lines one through four. Lucky for him, it seemed people had opinions on Ninja Bakery.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with 200% more Hanzo!
> 
> Me last night: Yeah I'll probably finish the next chapter on Monday, maybe Sunday if I'm lucky.  
> Me at 9pm on Saturday night: Oh.
> 
> I honestly didn't expect to have this all finished today, but I got an outpouring of support and it really encouraged me! Also, I'm really planning to make the most of this weekend. If I get a whole bunch more writing done tomorrow, I'll be set throughout the week. According to NaNoWriMo's site, I'm slated to finish this on November 20, so we'll see about that. Enjoy!

_Two hours earlier._

Hanzo held his breath, carefully spinning the cake in front of him and squinting. Something was off, but he couldn't quite tell what it was, and it was bothering him. Was it the frosting? Maybe the florets were crooked. They _did_ look a little off-center...

“Hanzo,” he heard a voice say distantly, but he ignored it. There was too much at stake here. He _had_ to figure out what was wrong with this damn cake. He wouldn't be able to relax if he didn't—

“ _Hanzo_ ,” the voice said again, sharper this time, and a hand waved in front of his face, breaking his hyper-focused concentration.

“Eh?” He blinked and looked up to see Amélie staring down at him reproachfully.

“You nearly let the muffins burn, and Genji is supposed to make his deliveries in a few minutes. What—”

“Damn,” Hanzo muttered, turning around to see the muffins she'd mentioned cooling on the counter. “You took them—”

“Out of the oven, _oui_. You were so intent on perfection that you forgot everything around you. Although...” Amélie's voice trailed off and she crouched down a bit to get a better look at the cake as well. “I don't know why you're obsessing over this. It looks fine.”

“Something is off,” Hanzo grumbled.

“Hardly. It's for a three-year-old's birthday party, Hanzo. The little beasts won't be looking at it long enough to notice even if something _was_ wrong,” she pointed out. When he crossed his arms and gave her a bitter look, Amélie sighed. “Go for a walk. Take a step away from this. When you come back, you'll see that I'm right.”

“I have three more cakes to work on today, not to mention the five dozen more muffins, and—”

“ _Mon dieu_! Five minutes! You can spare five minutes! Besides, I will be here, and once Genji returns from his deliveries, he can assist us further. He will only be gone an hour,” she added, pulling on a hairnet and gloves and beginning to box up the muffins he'd made earlier.

“Perhaps we should see about hiring another baker,” Hanzo muttered as he pulled off his own gloves. “Genji is talented, but—”

“I know. He is not as dedicated. Between the two of us, simply 'managing' is not good enough. And he would not be happy working back here all the time.”

Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Five minutes,” he called over his shoulder, heading out the rear door. His legs, prosthetic from the knee down, were sore from all the standing anyway, and he made a mental note to get more rubber matting put down in the kitchen. “Then I will return.”

Amélie waved carelessly, not even looking at him anymore.

When he and Genji had started this bakery two years ago, they'd struggled to find a client pool. It wasn't until Amélie Lacroix joined them as a secondary baker, bringing scores of customers with her, that they finally found their footing. Soon after, they had other businesses looking to supplement their own menus with Ninja Bakery's pastries—most notably, Harmony Coffee. That particular partnership was their most beneficial to date. Harmony had started off with a standing order of a dozen muffins per day, and then quickly bumped it up to two due to how fast they sold out, and now they were at four dozen per day—two in the morning, and two more in the afternoon. They had other standing deliveries to other businesses in town, meaning Genji was free to wander around, make his deliveries, and make his friends. He had truly become the face of the Ninja Bakery with his charisma and easy way with people.

Of course, Genji stepping out from the register meant they'd had to hire another cashier, which was how Lúcio came to work for them about six months ago. He was also outgoing and friendly as well as a big fan of their pastries, so it worked out well.

But Amélie was right. With business starting to pick up even more, they were quickly becoming overloaded. It might be time to start looking for a new baker, but the thought made him apprehensive. It wasn't enough that they hire someone skilled or inspired—whoever joined them needed to work well with them, especially with Hanzo and Amélie, since they would be figuratively stepping on each others' toes.

He just didn't know where to begin.

He was about to head back inside when the door opened again and Genji flung himself onto the step next to where Hanzo sat.

“You seem tense today,” Genji said with characteristic bluntness.

“Amélie thinks we need to hire another baker.”

“We do. You are overworked back there. It's too much for two people—and you already know I'm only good at making cookies.”

Hanzo snorted derisively. “You are an excellent baker, but I know you do not have the patience for it. No, she is right. Make your deliveries and we will discuss it later.”

“You need a day off. Close up on Sunday—you can sleep in and go to a movie.”

“Too many orders this weekend, and I have to start working on that wedding cake.”

Genji rolled his eyes. “You work too hard, Hanzo. You'll burn yourself out if you're not careful.”

“I will be fine.”

His brother sighed but didn't argue the point further. He held out his hand to help Hanzo to his feet, and they went back inside. Genji gathered up the boxes of muffins that Amélie had so helpfully put together, grabbed the delivery receipt form, and hurried out of the shop through the front.

“Feel better?” Amélie asked once he was gone.

“A little,” Hanzo admitted. The fresh air had cleared his head, and even though he still felt stiff from standing still for so long, moving around seemed to help. Besides, it looked like Amélie was right about another thing: when Hanzo took another look at the cake he'd been working on, he realized that it didn't look so bad after all. Satisfied now, he started preparing the frosting for the lettering. The child's parents would be here in two hours to pick up the cake, and he wanted to be absolutely sure it was ready to go by then.

Genji returned from his deliveries before eleven, conveniently forgetting the delivery receipt at Harmony Coffee. This was a common occurrence, and Hanzo knew why he did it, too. By now, he'd given up on lecturing Genji about it; Zenyatta from Harmony arrived at the shop around a half an hour later to return it to them, and Genji took the opportunity to flirt with him some more.

Hanzo couldn't begrudge him that, though. Compared to some of the people Genji used to date, Zenyatta's maturity was a decided improvement.

He took his lunch break shortly before noon, sitting at one of the tables in the front of the shop with one of the sandwiches Genji had picked up while he was out on his deliveries. That meant he had a perfect vantage point to listen to the radio, which Lúcio was in charge of today.

He was only half listening as one of the shows ended and the station played a song before the start of the next show, which immediately drew his entire focus. For one thing, the host was a very loud cowboy with a very pronounced drawl. For another, he started off the show by announcing that he'd had some kind of religious experience, which was laughable all on its own.

“ _...so I walk into Harmony, not knowin' what was about to befall me, an' this goddamn ninja sails in...”_

Hanzo turned in his seat to look at Genji, who recoiled with visible surprise. He was listening to the broadcast, too. “What did you do?” Hanzo demanded.

“Shut up, I'm trying to listen!” Genji said, waving him away.

The cowboy continued on, oblivious. “... _but that's not the weirdest thing to happen to me ever, so I let it go. I'm hungry still an' whatever's in the boxes still smells real good, so I figure I'll get my usual frap an' one of these muffins.”_

All four of them were listening now. Hanzo completely ignored his sandwich, now straining his ears to hear this.

It sounded like a positive review, but he still felt his grip on the armrests of his chair tightening.

The cowboy had opted for one of the maple cinnamon chocolate ones. Hanzo had worked really hard on those—coming up with the recipe had been a challenge, and it had been weeks of trials to finally perfect it, but in the end, he was proud of his work. No other bakery had managed to pull it off, and for that alone, he called it a success. But what if the cowboy hadn't liked it?

_Who cares?_ a logical part of him wondered. _It's just one person's opinion. It doesn't mean much._ Even if it actually did. If the cowboy didn't like it and said so on-air, the popularity of it would drop. What if people stopped coming to them altogether? Harmony might cancel their standing order. They could go out of business, just when they finally started to do well.

_Stop it. You're jumping to conclusions. It's fine._

The cowboy heaved a sigh. _“Y'all. I don't think I've ever eaten a better muffin in my life—an' that's not innuendo, stop laughin'. Y'all need to try that. Listen, I've never been to this Ninja Bakery before, but I'm gonna have to go pay 'em a visit an' see what else they got, 'cause that muffin was more than just a muffin, it was an_ experience _. I can't describe it an' still do it justice—you just gotta try it yourself. Anyone else been there before an' wanna give me some recommendations? We'll be takin' calls in a few minutes.”_

Hanzo's fingers relaxed, a smile spreading across his face even as he felt his face flushing. “Oh,” he said, ducking his head.

Genji, Amélie, and Lúcio all started laughing at him when he hid his face in his hands, trying to hide how red his face was turning, but it was no use.

“Aw, come on, you thought it was gonna be negative, didn't you?” Lúcio said. “But he liked it! Can't complain about that!”

“Sounds like he didn't just _like_ it,” Genji said smugly. He had his phone out and peered at it intently. “Sounds like he _loved_ it. Maybe a little too much,” he added.

“Do _not_ call that number, Genji,” Hanzo snapped, suddenly panicked. “You don't—”

Genji scoffed, putting his phone away. “I wasn't going to, but perhaps you should. If nothing else, perhaps we could get a regular sponsorship deal, like they have with Harmony.”

Amélie looked intrigued. “That's not a bad idea. We already have a good working relationship with Harmony—branching out to the radio station couldn't hurt.”

“I will... consider it,” Hanzo said, reluctantly. “I will need to look at our expenses for the month to determine if we can afford another baker _and_ a sponsorship deal.”

Lúcio's eyebrows shot up. “Another baker? You're moving up!”

“It's an idea we're considering, given the workload that we have. It will also take some time to find someone who works well with us. It's not like the right person is just going to walk right in and ask for a job.”

The bell over the door rang, and a very tall, intimidating-looking man in dark jeans and a white button-down shirt walked in. “Hello there,” he said, looking around. His voice was tinged by an accent Hanzo couldn't quite place, but he had very dark skin. “I was wondering, are you hiring?”

Genji nearly fell over laughing.

While Hanzo and Lúcio blinked in surprise, Amélie smoothly stepped out from behind the counter. “That depends on what sort of job you were looking for.”

“I was hoping you had a position as a baker open, but I'd be willing to make deliveries or even just clean up if that's what you needed.”

Amélie shot Hanzo a smug look. “You were saying?” she said, and Hanzo rolled his eyes and went back to his sandwich. She then focused her attention on the newcomer. “As a matter of fact, we were just discussing the possibility of a new hire, and as a baker, as luck would have it. I take it you have experience and references?”

“Twelve years of experience. As for my references, the situation is complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Hanzo asked. He felt like he should probably be standing, but he was on his lunch break and his legs were already bothering him.

“I don't know if you heard of a bakery called Talon Pies 'n Things, but that is where I used to work.”

Hanzo _had_ heard of it—they'd been competition for awhile before the shop closed its doors about eight months ago. He didn't know why, however. It had all been kept quiet.

“They're now out of business, and unfortunately, none of my former supervisors are likely to recommend me.”

“And why is that?” Amélie asked, crossing her arms.

The stranger looked at them all anxiously, especially Genji and Lúcio. “I... may have been the reason they went out of business.”

Hanzo and Amélie exchanged worried glances.

“Your honesty is commendable, but concerning,” Hanzo said, finally gathering up the remains of his sandwich and standing up. “I'll have to ask you for more details. Come with me.”

Amélie and the stranger followed him to his office. Genji made to follow them as well, but Hanzo warned him off with a look.

“Fine,” Genji grumbled as the door closed behind them. “Be that way. I'll just be looking at Justice the Cowboy.” He pulled out his phone again and opened up Instagram, sliding across the floor next to Lúcio. “Check this out. This is the guy who can't stop raving about Hanzo's muffins.”

“Lemme see.” Lúcio pulled Genji's phone toward him. “Oh, wow. He looks like a dork.”

Genji laughed, but Lúcio's assessment wasn't off the mark. Justice wore a lot of cowboy hats and jeans—not to mention those ostentatious belt buckles—but he always had a grin or ridiculous look on his face and in the few videos he'd posted, he seemed like a very cheerful, happy-go-lucky guy. Genji had to admit that Justice and Hanzo seemed very different, but complementary.

Justice was also very nice to look at, which didn't hurt any.

“He sure does.”

“Think Han'll like him?”

Genji scoffed, leaning back against the counter. “Who cares? Hanzo's an adult. If he wants to date this guy, it'll be with no help from me.” At Lúcio's alarmed look, Genji sighed. “Relax. I mean that I'm not going to be the one to tell him that Justice is hot. He'll find out on his own.”

“You're forgetting that Hanzo doesn't even have an Instagram account,” Lúcio pointed out.

Genji shrugged. “Then I guess Justice will have to come in here on his own and flirt the old-fashioned way. And you can't tell Hanzo about this at all.”

Lúcio heaved a sigh, but he was smiling. “Alright. He's _your_ brother. I'll keep it quiet.”

“Excellent. Now we'll just have to wait and see if Justice was serious about stopping by here.”

“It sounded like he was ready to propose marriage to the muffin. I think we'll be seeing him in person soon.”

Genji grinned. “I saw him in person at Harmony, remember?”

“Oh, _this_ will be interesting.”

* * *

Back in Hanzo's office, the three of them had sat down. The stranger looked slightly apprehensive while trying not to be, and Hanzo wondered what the full story here was. He doubted he'd ever get it.

“So, you used to work at Talon,” Amélie said, sitting on the edge of Hanzo's desk. “What's your name?”

“Of course. I'm Akande Ogundimu.”

“Hanzo Shimada, and this is Amélie Lacroix. So, tell us what happened with Talon.”

“What happened is not so difficult to understand. I have a very analytic mind. I noticed that the bakery's profit margins were not what they should be, considering the expenses and profits every month. At first, I didn't think much of it, but after a few months of it went by and then tax season rolled around, I finally realized that two of the managers were skimming funds, so I reported them. They didn't react well, and I began to feel threatened to stay there, so I quit, and a few months later, they went out of business. So while it is partially my fault that it happened, I don't expect it to happen again. That is, unless someone here is also skimming cash.”

Hanzo and Amélie exchanged glances. “Surely if you sued, you could get some compensation for wrongful termination.”

“I could, if I had been fired. I was not fired, though. I quit, and because of that, I don't have a case. I've already spoken to lawyers about that, and now, I have nearly burned through all of my savings. I need a new job soon.”

“I understand.” Hanzo took a thoughtful bite of his sandwich while he mulled it over.

Amélie, however, had further questions. “I assume you went to culinary school?”

“Of course. I graduated from the Culinary Institute of America, and my specialty was as a pastry chef. I was hoping by now I would have my own shop, but all things considered, I don't have the collateral to put up for a loan and hardly any savings left, either. So it looks like I'll have to hold off on it for awhile.”

“What about a résumé?” Amélie asked.

“I brought one.” Akande reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out several folded sheets of paper, and handed them to her.

She unfolded them and looked over the résumé for a few moments.

Hanzo finished off his sandwich and threw the wrapper in the trash can. “Could you excuse us for a moment?”

“Yes, of course.” Akande got to his feet—he seemed to be made of pure muscle, and Hanzo wondered how a man who aspired to own a bakery wound up build like a fighter—and left the room.

Once the door closed again, Amélie handed over his résumé. “Hanzo. We need to at least give him a chance. We would be fools not to. Twelve years, and he was one of their top bakers. This is a brilliant opportunity.”

“We have no way to verify any of this information. Well, his degree we could check, but as for his experience—”

“And so what? We start him tomorrow, give him a week and see how he fits in. Rarely does the universe conspire in our favor. Opportunity is knocking, Shimada, and if you refuse to answer—”

“ _Fine_ ,” Hanzo said. “We will give him a chance.” He sighed. “Genji was just telling me I needed a day off anyway.”

“Well, if Akande works out, you just might get one. Besides, I'm interested to see what he can do in the kitchen.”

“As am I. Having an extra pair of hands back here full-time _would_ make things easier,” he admitted. “I only hope we can afford it.”

* * *

By the time Jesse wrapped up his show, he'd gotten a lot of suggestions for things to try at Ninja Bakery, and he came to the conclusion that he was going to have to go directly there on Monday and buy enough muffins for the whole station. Especially considering the way he'd talked up the maple cinnamon chocolate muffins, he didn't want to deprive them all of the goodness.

Once he was off the air, he retreated to his desk to see if he could dig up some more information on their site—and he assumed they did have a website, since it was 2017 and no business could really be successful without a website. The site for Harmony Coffee had a link to Ninja Bakery's site, and Jesse had to say that he was impressed. It was neat and professional-looking, and it contained a full menu of everything they sold alongside pictures. Everything looked delicious, especially their muffin selection.

They had the usual fare, like blueberry, banana, and regular chocolate, and there was the fabled maple cinnamon chocolate muffin, but they also had some more unusual flavors, like green tea, lemon strawberry, raspberry lime, and apple spice. He was strongly considering buying a dozen of each, but it looked like a small shop and he didn't want to overload them.

He continued to skim the site and found the “About Us” section. Right across the top, superimposed over the blue dragon logo, was a pair of Japanese men, one sporting green hair and a grin, the other with a more stern expression and dark hair. Jesse recognized the green-haired one—it was the same ninja who'd run past him this morning at Harmony Coffee, the one who had a thing for Zenyatta. That one was Genji Shimada, and it looked the other one was Genji's older brother Hanzo. The two of them actually owned the bakery, although Hanzo was the only one who'd gone to culinary school. Genji had designed the logo, made deliveries, coordinated their site and social media accounts, and was generally the face of the business.

It was a shame, though. While it was true that Genji was the more classically handsome of the two, Hanzo was still gorgeous. He had a sharply-hooked nose and piercing eyes, and his high cheekbones made him look elegant.

Jesse felt himself blushing. If Hanzo was the one who'd made those muffins—and it certainly looked to be the case right now—then Jesse was already in love with him.

Further down, there were more pictures of the rest of the shop. Most of them gave a nice little insight into what went on behind the scenes, but one of them gave him pause and filled him with disappointment.

It was a picture of Hanzo and a tall, dark-haired woman that further digging named as Amélie Lacroix. She seemed to be another baker working at the shop, and the picture showed the two of them bent over a cake but still looking intently at each other. There was nothing explicitly mentioned anywhere on the site, but Lacroix was beautiful, and Jesse would not have been surprised to learn that there was something romantic going on between them. He sighed and moved on.

There was an order form in another tab, mostly for muffins and other small pastries. There was a note at the bottom requesting that anyone ordering a cake come to the shop in person to place the order. That didn't apply to him, so put together his order for two dozen muffins of several different varieties and scheduled it for pickup on Monday morning at ten-thirty. That would be plenty of time for him to pick them up, surreptitiously ogle Hanzo, and still make it to work on time.

After all, even if Hanzo _was_ involved with Amélie, there was no harm in still looking, right? At either of them, come to think of it.

He closed the window, chuckling to himself. He was far too bisexual for this.

* * *

He didn't bother changing when he got home from work—Julio's was casual, and if Jesse knew Livi, they would be showing up in jeans no matter what. That was why she'd picked it as her birthday dinner.

Jesse dug out his cowboy hat from his closet and took a cab to the restaurant. For once, he was early, arriving even before his parents, so he lingered outside, lighting a cigar while he waited. He didn't smoke very often, only when he was stressed, but it had been a pretty good week and he felt like celebrating a bit anyway.

The sky overhead was slowly melting from dark blue to inky black and dotted with stars. Even so, it was still warm and would most likely stay that way for a couple more months. It took awhile for the nights to cool down out here, but that was fine with Jesse. It was a peaceful night. It was Livi's birthday, she'd be married two weeks from tomorrow, and he had a job he liked and that let him live comfortably.

It was a good night.

“You're gonna kill yourself doing that,” said a sharp voice behind him.

Jesse sighed, taking his cigar out of his mouth. “Well, it _was_ a nice night,” he joked, turning around to give his dad a hug. “Good to see you. Where's Papa?”

“Parking the car. Olivia and Satya here yet?”

“Nope, not that I saw.” Jesse clipped off the end of his cigar to put it out and stashed it out of sight. “Didn't hear from them after I left for work, so they might have fallen back asleep.”

“Nah, we were texting them earlier. They said they were on their way ten minutes ago. I was just thinking—oh, that's probably them.”

A white car pulled into the parking lot, and sure enough, Livi and Satya got out of the back seat. As Jesse suspected, they both wore jeans, although it looked like Satya's long shirt was actually a very short dress that she'd chosen to wear with pants.

“Hey, kids,” Jack said, and Livi gave him a tight hug.

“Hey, Dad. How're you?”

“Just fine, just fine. Happy birthday, sweetie.”

Gabe finally joined them, ruffling Livi's hair and squeezing Jesse's shoulder. He must have thought he was slick when he slid the car keys in Jack's jacket pocket, but Jesse saw it and smirked.

“What are we waiting around out here for?” Gabe asked, leading them toward the doors. “The food is inside. Jesse, why do you smell like cigarette smoke?”

“It was a cigar, and I already lectured him about it,” Jack said.

“Oh, good, I still get to be the fun parent. Who's ready for margaritas? I'm gonna kill a whole pitcher by myself.”

“Not when you're driving, you're not,” Jack said sharply.

Gabe smirked, throwing out finger guns and backing up into the doors. “How can I drive when I don't have the keys? Check your pockets, boy scout.”

Jack patted down his pockets and stopped when he felt the keys. “God damn it, Gabe,” he said tiredly, but Gabe along with Livi and Satya had already gone inside.

“You could always get a cab back tonight,” Jesse suggested.

“Nah, it's fine. I just like to let him think it annoys me. If he's not bothering someone, he's not happy.” Jack smiled. “Come on, no point in keeping them waiting.”

At age fourteen, if you had asked Jesse where he saw himself in twenty years, he might have said in jail like his biological mother or simply dead like his biological father. He certainly wouldn't have thought he'd be alive and well, surrounded by a family who actually cared about him. All things considered, he was glad it had turned out like this. Gabe and Jack had given him a family and a future when they adopted him at fifteen, and that had been enough for Jesse. And then they'd adopted Livi a year later, really completing their family. True, Jesse and Livi had avoided each other for awhile because they'd been total strangers at first, but they quickly grew to be friends, and now she was one of the best friends he had, and Jesse, who had been an only child before then, was now proud to call her his sister.

The night wore on in a comforting blur. Jesse lost count of the pitchers of margaritas that came and went at their table, getting lost in the shuffle among baskets of tortilla chips and salsa and guacamole, getting bumped by plates of enchiladas and street tacos and empanadas and tamales. He was glad he'd skipped lunch, because he wouldn't have had room for all the food and margaritas.

Even though loud ambiance usually made him tense, it was a little easier to handle when he was drunk. Even Satya, who was generally uncomfortable in large groups of people, seemed to be doing alright with all the social stimulation tonight, even telling a story from last night about one of Livi's friends who'd gotten so drunk that she hadn't realized someone was flirting with her and she ended up braiding his hair instead and calling him “the son I never wanted.” Livi collapsed against Satya's shoulder, heaving with giggles.

As dinner started winding down, Jack suggested they go to the Baskin Robbins in the strip mall behind Julio's, and no one raised any objections, so as soon as they paid for dinner (Gabe's treat), they wandered over. Twenty minutes later, as the five of them sat on the curb digging into their ice cream, his papa said, “So whatever happened with that muffin you were trying to fuck?”

His dad set his cup of ice cream on the pavement next to him and hid his face for a moment. “Excuse me, _what_?”

“Yeah, our boy was trying to fuck a muffin today. Ain't that right, Jesse?”

“That's not even _close_ to bein' right,” Jesse said. “No, I'm gonna fuck the guy who _made_ the muffin. It was a damn good muffin,” he added at Jack's incredulous expression, “an' the guy who made it is hot. You'd be proud.”

Jack picked his ice cream back up. “I can't believe people think _I'm_ the weird one in this family.”

Jesse gave him an exaggerated shrug. “Papa's on my side, though, right?”

“You probably have a better chance with the muffin.”

“Hello, 911? I'm the victim of a murder.”

“No need to be so dramatic. I'm sure you'll make beautiful cupcakes together,” Livi joked. Satya was snuggled against her side, Livi's arm around her shoulders.

“Yeah, well, first I need to actually talk to the guy an' find out if he's single, for one thing, an' into guys, for another, so I wouldn't expect anything just yet.”

“I believe in you. And if all else fails, you can still fuck his muffin.”

Jesse laughed. This silly crush of his wouldn't go anywhere, but that was alright. No matter what happened, as long as he still had his family, he'd be okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genji is a shithead, honestly, and I am living for it. Also since Moira was announced today, I might try to work her in with a guest appearance in a later chapter. We'll see!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's left me comments, reviews, and feedback! Your input really keeps me motivated!
> 
> (That being said, if it bothers you so much that a fic writer is asking for feedback that you feel the need to comment and tell me just how annoying it is, you are consuming the wrong media. Writing a novel-length fanfiction in one month while also balancing a full-time job is hard work, and if you haven't written a fic of any length before, you have no idea how it feels to be on the other side of the screen.)

After discussing it in his office, Hanzo and Amélie asked Akande when he was able to start working.

“As soon as you need me,” Akande replied.

Hanzo and Amélie exchanged glances. “Tomorrow?” Hanzo asked.

“I can be here tomorrow, of course. What time do you need me?”

“Be here at six-thirty. We'll have some paperwork for you to fill out, and then we will begin.”

After a few more minutes spent discussing Akande's salary and schedule for the upcoming week, he left, promising to return tomorrow morning at six-thirty. Once he had left the office, Hanzo stood up.

“Well. I suppose we'll have to see how this goes.”

“I'm sure it will be fine,” Amélie said. “Where did Genji put those sandwiches?”

The rest of the day went by relatively smoothly. He dragged Genji into the kitchen while Amélie ate lunch so he could help Hanzo with the muffins for the afternoon as well as the rest of the cakes. As soon as she was finished, Genji darted away, only to emerge from the office an hour later with a sheet of paper in his hand.

“We have another muffin order,” he announced, slapping the printed-out form on the counter across from where Amélie was frosting another cake.

“For when?” Hanzo asked, feeling his heart rate pick up. If it was another last-minute order, would they have time for everything they needed to do today? And he hadn't even gotten started on sketching out that wedding cake—

“Pick up on Monday at ten-thirty,” Genji said. “Two dozen assorted muffins.”

Hanzo nodded slowly. It looked like Monday would be an earlier day than he expected. “All right. Leave it on the board. We'll get to it.”

By the time they close the shop that night, Hanzo's legs were killing him. Even Amélie seemed to be feeling the exhaustion; she flashed him a tired smile as she took off her flour- and chocolate-smeared apron and tossed it into the industrial-sized washing machine. Lúcio had left around five that afternoon, so once Amélie went home for the day, it was only Hanzo and Genji left. As soon as she was gone, Hanzo flipped the sign around to read CLOSED and locked the front doors.

While they waited for the washing machine to run its course, the two of them wiped down the counters, checked their ingredient stock (they were running low on baking soda and eggs, so Genji scribbled it down so they could pick up some more on their way home tonight—they weren't scheduled for a shipment until tomorrow afternoon, which would be too late for them), scrubbed, dried, and put away the dishes, swept and mopped the floors, wiped down the display cases, and took out the trash. Just as Genji finished tossing the last bag of trash into the dumpster behind the shop, the washing machine had finished its cycle, so Hanzo transferred the laundry to the dryer while Genji closed out the register and gathered up the receipts.

“I'll take care of it,” Hanzo said. “Can you go and get dinner?”

“Sure. What are you in the mood for?”

“I don't know.” Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose. To be honest, he wasn't very hungry, but he knew it had been nearly eight hours since he'd eaten last and he should have been hungry. Maybe he was getting sick. “Perhaps pizza?”

“Sure.” Genji plucked the car keys off the hook next to the door. “You should take off your shoes. They can't be comfortable right now.”

Hanzo chuckled in spite of his exhaustion. One of their running jokes was to call his prosthetic legs his “shoes.” It somehow made them seem more normal. “You're just jealous that my feet don't stink.”

“You got me there.” Genji grinned and sailed out the door. “Be back soon!”

It wasn't so bad, all things considered. They'd turned a profit today, and based on the last few weeks, their net income was steadily increasing. It looked like they'd be able to afford Akande if they squeezed. He dropped the pencil on his desk and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. He knew he couldn't afford to take time off right now, but maybe in a few months, maybe closer to a year...

“Hanzo?”

He didn't remember falling asleep. He didn't even remember taking his “shoes” off. But when he opened his eyes next, he had his cheek pressed to the desk with his arms over his head. He blinked uncertainly. “Hello.”

Genji sighed, setting the pizza box down on the corner of the desk. “Come on, I don't care if you finished the books. It's time to go home.”

“Mm.” Hanzo slowly sat up. “I finished. I was only asleep for a few minutes.”

“Good. Need help with your shoes?”

“No, but can you check—”

“The dryer's done. Already took out the aprons and put them away.”

Hanzo nodded as he pulled his prosthetic legs toward him and Genji gathered up the books and the money, putting both in the safe in the corner. Hanzo had to lean on Genji to get to the car since he was still a bit off-balance from his impromptu nap. Once he was safely in the car with the pizza on his lap, they went back to their apartment for a quick dinner, so quick that Hanzo fell back asleep after only one slice. His last conscious thought was to wonder if Justice's radio endorsement would bring them more business.

* * *

Genji didn't go right to sleep. He had other things on his mind.

After a bit of Google searching, he discovered that Justice the Cowboy's show was available as a podcast, the episodes going up the day after they were recorded. The earliest one was from a little less than a year ago. Intrigued, Genji downloaded a handful of episodes, plugged in his headphones, and started to listen.

* * *

To Hanzo's relief, Akande was there at six-thirty the next morning, as agreed. He knew he had no reason to suspect that Akande wouldn't show up, but he still worried all the same.

He and Genji made short work of showing him around, pointing out where any recipes he might need were located, showing him the fridges and freezers, and getting him set up with paperwork. By the time Amélie arrived at seven, Hanzo and Akande were already elbow-deep in muffin batter, the first batch already in the oven.

They opened promptly at eight, just as Genji skated out the front door with their first deliveries of the morning. The day went by in a confusing blur—with three bakers in the kitchen, it was easier to get the pastries in the oven, but on the other side of the coin, they kept bumping into each other, more so than Hanzo was used to with only two. He recalled having the same issue with Amélie for a few days after he hired her, too, and he hoped it wouldn't be a problem again for long.

At least with both Amélie and Akande on muffin and cookie duty, Hanzo was free to focus on their cake orders for the day. He even had a few minutes of downtime to sketch out the wedding cake that had been ordered months ago. Fortunately, most of their cake orders were for birthdays and anniversaries, not three-tiered deals like this one, so he wasn't worried about having too many orders to finish on time, but the downside to that was that he hadn't made many wedding cakes before. Yet another unique challenge.

At noon, he surreptitiously changed the radio station to the one from the day before, the one with the show hosted by Justice the Cowboy. Maybe he held his breath a bit as he waited for the show to start—but it never came. It was a different show today, and he was disappointed until he remembered that, shortly before going off the air yesterday, Justice had rattled off his time slot: Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from noon to one o'clock. He would just have to tune in again on Monday.

Cake pickups went relatively smoothly. The only issue was when an irate-looking parent showed up a half an hour early for his son's birthday cake when Hanzo was only halfway done with the lettering. Lúcio, Genji, and Akande all took turns trying to calm him down while Hanzo worked faster, and all of them met with no success. It finally took some soothing words from Amélie to bring him out of his rage, and then Hanzo finally came out of the kitchen with the cake boxed up and ready to go. The customer still left in a huff, letting the door slam behind him, and the placating smile on Amélie's face melted away.

What followed was thirty-eight seconds of French that Hanzo didn't understand, but from her tone, he guessed she was inventing some colorful new insults. As soon as she finished, she spun on her heel, the hair in her ponytail whipping around, and stormed back into the kitchen.

“Is she—” Akande started, looking concerned, but Genji slung an arm around his shoulders.

“She'll live,” he said cheerfully, although the smile on his face seemed tense. “She just doesn't deal well with assholes. Fooled that guy, though, right?”

A loud _BANG_ followed by a clatter echoed through the store from the kitchen. It seemed that Amélie had thrown something. Hanzo went back to check on her.

Amélie was slumped back against a counter, her face in her hands. Her back was to him, so all he could really see was her hair falling over her shoulders. “If you had not... spent so long on that cake, I would have slapped it out of his hands,” she muttered, finally lifting her head. She looked back at him; her makeup was smeared and her face was flushed.

“I don't understand—what happened?”

She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “You didn't hear what he said. He... I won't repeat it. I can't. But believe me, he is a racist, transphobic asshole, and if he ever returns—which I doubt—then we should refuse him service. The things he said about Akande and Lúcio... Genji... I don't know how I kept my composure.”

Hanzo felt his heart sinking. He could fill in the blanks. “Did anyone else hear?”

“No. He was quiet about it. Asked me how I could tolerate working with... I won't say it.” She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling a few strands out of her ponytail. “I'm sorry about the wall, by the way.”

“Eh?” Hanzo looked over her shoulder, toward the back entrance of the kitchen. There was a gouge out of the wall next to the door, and on the floor was a slightly-dented cake pan. “Oh. I'm mostly impressed that you threw the pan so hard.”

“Yes, I...” She sighed, finally dropping her hands. Her shoulders slackened and her gaze drifted, but she didn't finish her thought.

“It's fine,” Hanzo said gently. “Take a few minutes. He's gone. And next time, we'll kick him right out. I don't have metal feet for decoration.”

Amélie giggled and pulled her apron over her head. “Just a few minutes, and then I'll be back,” she said, and then glided out of the kitchen.

Hanzo went back out front. Genji, Lúcio, and Akande were huddled close together. He could only see Lucio's face, but he looked concerned, hurt—and angry.

“That person is not allowed back in the shop,” Hanzo announced. “If he ever returns, we will immediately escort him from the premises.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Akande said, and Hanzo was suddenly grateful for the man's size. He was certainly intimidating, and Hanzo hoped to never be on the receiving end of that withering look.

It seemed to take hours for normalcy to return, but return it eventually did. Soon enough, Amélie had tuned the radio to a classic rock station and she and Hanzo began working on their last batch of muffins for the day. Akande asked if he could bake a small batch of cookies, and since they had the oven and counter space, Hanzo agreed. To his surprise, the cookies sold out within a few hours, and a few more customers asked when would be the next time they would make them.

If the demand for them kept up, he would consider adding it to the full-time selection.

Cleanup was easier that night—both Amélie and Akande stayed behind to help Genji with cleanup while Hanzo closed out the register and ordered a set of three aprons with Ninja Bakery's logo and Akande's name on them. There was no denying that he had talent, and although it was only his first day, he was starting to fit in remarkably well. The incident this afternoon aside, it had been a pretty good day.

Sunday was remarkably unremarkable, with only Hanzo and Genji working and with their usual shortened hours. They only had a handful of customers come in, which suited Hanzo just fine—he didn't know why he expected something else to happen, but he was relieved when it didn't.

Monday rolled around too quickly, and six-thirty saw Hanzo preparing eight batches of muffins. He had the ones for Harmony Coffee's first order of two dozen along with the rest of their standing orders and the ones slated for early pickups, but he held off on the ten-thirty pickup order until an hour beforehand. He wanted those ones to be still warm when they were picked up, mostly because the order had been placed by a new customer and he wanted to make a good impression.

Genji was out making deliveries, Akande was busy with more muffins, Amélie was in the middle of frosting a cake, and Lúcio had Monday mornings off, so Hanzo found himself behind the counter at ten-thirty when the pickup arrived.

The man swaggered in, a rather scruffy-looking beard and mustache on his face and wearing a red flannel shirt and jeans. He smiled and waved, greeting Hanzo with a cheerful, “Mornin'!”

“Good morning,” Hanzo said. “Are you here to pick up an order?”

“Sure am! Two dozen assorted for Jesse. J-E-S-S-E.”

“Just a moment,” Hanzo said, and he went back into the kitchen for Jesse's order. When he came back, Jesse was looking around the shop with interest, from the mural on the wall behind the register (a large blue dragon with a ninja headband, just like their logo, that Genji had painted when they first bought the property) to the scattered, eclectic mix of tables and chairs near the windows to the assorted pastries in the display case.

“Real nice place you got here,” Jesse said, giving Hanzo a genuine smile.

He was cute enough, Hanzo decided. His smile probably would have made his knees melt, but given that he didn't really have any, he was immune. “Thank you. We wanted it to feel as inviting as possible.”

“Mission accomplished. Did you paint that dragon yourself?”

“Udon? No—Genji painted it.”

Jesse burst out laughing. “Udon? Like the noodles?”

“Yes,” said Hanzo, suddenly feeling self-conscious and silly. “Genji said that the dragon design reminded him of a noodle. I suggested Udon as a name. It was either that or Soba.”

Jesse grinned. “Well, it's a good name no matter what. How much do I owe you for the muffins?”

“Forty-three-seventy-five.”

“Yikes. Heh, good thing I know they're worth it.”

“Oh?” Hanzo said. His mind flashed back to the radio show and he wondered... “Did you hear about us on the radio?”

Jesse chuckled, pulling two twenties and a ten out of his wallet. “Somethin' like that. Keep the change, darlin'. I have a feelin' I'll be back.” He smiled at him, picked up the boxes, and walked out of the store, leaving Hanzo feeling like he'd missed something important.

* * *

Jesse had felt ridiculous—what had he been nervous about? All he was doing was going to pick up muffins—it wasn't like he was going to ask Hanzo Shimada on a date or anything. Besides, for all he knew, Amélie Lacroix was the one who'd made the muffins.

He'd arrived at Ninja Bakery a solid fifteen minutes before he was scheduled to pick up his order. He paced around the parking lot for a few minutes and crossed the sidewalk in front of the shop nearly a hundred times. He hoped no one inside was watching, because he wasn't sure how he would explain that away. Finally, as his phone clicked to ten-twenty-eight, he figured that was good enough and strolled inside.

It was Hanzo Shimada behind the counter, and he was even more attractive in person than he was in pictures. His dark hair was tied back, and at his temples, his hair was streaked with premature gray. His features seemed sharp and elegant, enhanced by the neat goatee that suited him well, but the image was slightly softened by the smudge of pink frosting across his cheek and the flour on his apron. While he was a bit shorter than Jesse imagined, that didn't mean much to him. He was gorgeous no matter what.

Jesse wasn't sure how he managed it, but he strode in, projecting as confident an air as he could, and waved. “Mornin'!”

“Good morning,” Hanzo said, looking just a bit uncertain. “Are you here to pick up an order?”

“Sure am! Two dozen assorted for Jesse. J-E-S-S-E.”

“Just a moment.” Hanzo stepped into the back, and while he was gone, Jesse looked around.

The whole place seemed bright and cheerful, the cartoon dragon on the wall really pulling the whole look together. He wondered if Hanzo had painted it himself, or if he'd hired someone else to do it.

Then he remembered reading that Genji had been the one to design the logo. It was more likely he'd painted it on the wall, too.

The door to the kitchen opened up and Hanzo returned, his arms piled with boxes. Jesse finally caught a really good look at what he'd initially thought was a design on Hanzo's T-shirt but was, in fact, a full-sleeve tattoo on his left arm. The tattoo was full of blues and grays with some gold tones thrown in and looked to be a traditional Japanese style depicting—another dragon, or maybe two. He wanted a better look, but knew it would be rude to ask since they didn't really know each other. Either way, that tattoo was impressive. “Real nice place you got here,” Jesse said instead as Hanzo set the boxes on the counter.

Hanzo nodded at him, looking like he was trying to size him up. “Thank you. We wanted it to feel as inviting as possible.”

“Mission accomplished. Did you paint that dragon yourself?”

“Udon? No—Genji painted it.”

The dragon had a _name_? And one as cute as Udon? Jesse couldn't help but laugh. “Udon? Like the noodles?”

“Yes,” said Hanzo. His face flushed, almost matching the pink frosting still on his face. “Genji said that the dragon design reminded him of a noodle. I suggested Udon as a name. It was either that or Soba.”

Jesse grinned. “Well, it's a good name no matter what. How much do I owe you for the muffins?”

“Forty-three-seventy-five.”

He'd had a feeling it would be something like that. “Yikes. Heh, good thing I know they're worth it.”

“Oh?” Hanzo said. He seemed intrigued. “Did you hear about us on the radio?”

Jesse pulled out fifty dollars, feeling an unwarranted sense of pride. Hanzo had listened to his show. “Somethin' like that.” Would it be in poor taste to tell him that it was _his_ show? Probably. He didn't want to come off like he was bragging. “Keep the change, darlin'. I have a feelin' I'll be back.” He smiled at him, picked up the boxes, and walked out of the store. He didn't know how he made it to the end of the block with his legs feeling like jelly, but he managed.

He waited until he'd regained some semblance of calm before continuing his walk to work. He couldn't wait to see the looks on his coworkers' faces when he showed up with brunch.

* * *

As he suspected, the muffins were an instant hit. Jesse set them in the break room, pulling out another one of the maple cinnamon chocolate ones for himself and leaving the boxes wide open. Within a minute, three people appeared in the doorway, sniffing the air.

“Breakfast?” Jamie said, looking—well, _predatory_ wasn't the right word, but it was the first one that came to mind.

Jesse took a bite of his muffin, just to make sure it still tasted as good as the first one he'd had on Friday. It did. “Yep,” he said with his mouth full.

“Oh, damn, this came from Ninja Bakery?” Angelo, one of the interns, asked, his eyes alight. He pushed past Jamie and made a beeline for one of the raspberry lime muffins. “I always get one from Harmony, but I've never been to their actual store before.” He giddily peeled off the paper and picked off a piece. “You're going to be popular this morning.”

Orisa scanned the selection carefully before choosing a green tea muffin. She took one bite and then practically danced. “Oh, these are marvelous! We should have these every day!”

Jesse laughed, but Angelo nodded in agreement. “I'm with Ori on this one. Maybe if people wanted to take turns buying them or maybe we could collect money from people who wanted them. Oh! They deliver! Maybe we could get a regular delivery!”

He liked the idea of getting muffins on the regular, but a standing delivery? Then he wouldn't have an excuse to go to Ninja Bakery himself—Genji made the deliveries. “We can discuss it with Zarya an' Torb. They may not...” He trailed off as Zarya strolled in, looking intrigued—and hungry.

“Discuss what? Ooh, muffins!” She immediately grabbed a lemon strawberry muffin. “I hope this will be enough. Twenty may not be enough to feed everyone.”

“Twenty? I got two dozen.”

“But there are only five boxes.”

Jesse spun around, setting his half-finished muffin on the table, and counted again to make sure. “I _know_ there were just six here a minute ago!”

“But where—?” Orisa started, looking around, but then she stopped. “Oh. Jamison is gone.”

“That sneaky rat bastard,” Jesse muttered. He was mostly joking, but he was still a little pissed off that Jamie had swiped a whole box in front of three witnesses and none of them had noticed.

Over the next forty-five minutes, most of the studio trickled in to partake in the goodness. Conspicuous by their absence were Jamie—who did not return, unlike Angelo—and Mako, who didn't show up at all. Jesse figured that Jamie had grabbed a box for the two of them to share which, while sweet, didn't really make him feel better about being conned out of four muffins. They'd been meant to share, obviously, but twenty-four should have been enough for everyone to have one.

Still, he'd try to go back on Wednesday. Maybe not to get muffins for everyone again, but just to pick up one for him. And Orisa, too. And perhaps Angelo—God knew interns were paid like crap. Possibly Zarya would get one as well. But it was mostly for him, and mostly so he could see Hanzo Shimada again.

If he had any amount of courage, he would just ask Hanzo out on an actual date instead of swinging by his shop every once in awhile and making awkward small talk. But then again, asking people out while they were at work was a little creepy—he wouldn't want Hanzo to think he _had_ to say yes, after all. And he still couldn't figure out if Hanzo even liked men in the first place. He usually had a pretty good sense for that sort of thing, but being around Hanzo was like his gaydar had picked up interference from a gay weather balloon—he couldn't tell if it was real or just him projecting.

Jesse rolled it around in his head until his show started, and from there, he was able to put it aside. Mostly. He may have mentioned once or twice on-air that “we got some muffins from Ninja Bakery in the studio today, and they're a huge hit,” but he neglected to add that he was the one who'd bought them. He did manage to avoid talking about Hanzo Shimada at all, and he considered that a personal success. He was so pleased with himself that as soon as the final song for his show started playing—today it was “Africa” by Toto—he took of his headphones, stood up, and danced. He may have sung along a bit, too. It didn't matter, though, since his microphone had been cut and no one could see him.

Congratulating himself on a job well done, as soon as the next show started he went back to his desk and kicked his boots up. He was in the middle of answering an email from Zarya about his next show when his phone buzzed on the desk next to him.

It was from Livi. _This_ was interesting.

_hope u bring better dancing shoes to the wedding ;)_

Jesse felt his eyebrows shoot up. He didn't like the sound of that. _What do you mean?_

Livi's next message was a series of laughing emojis. _im guessing u havent checked ur IG in the past half an hour._

Why did _that_ make his heart sink? _No I haven't. Hang on._

Wondering what fresh hell was about to befall him, he opened up his Instagram app. After ten agonizing seconds as the app refreshed, he saw a slew of notifications, starting with Zarya tagging him in a video she'd posted twenty minutes ago and ending with hundreds of people already commenting and liking it.

He didn't know _how_ , but somehow, she'd gotten a good thirty-second video of him dancing in the recording booth. He wasn't a _bad_ dancer necessarily, maybe a little clumsy, and maybe he'd tripped on his own boots a bit, but at least he hadn't fallen over. His face wasn't visible in the video, either, which was only a small mercy considering she'd tagged him in the damn thing.

He answered Livi's message with _In my defense, I had no idea she was recording_ and hoped that would be good enough. He liked the video on Zarya's timeline to indicate that he didn't mind and then closed the app.

He had no idea if Hanzo was on Instagram, but Jesse suddenly hoped he wasn't. That was the last thing he needed, to look that uncoordinated in front of someone he actually liked.

“Hey, Jesse?” a voice said tentatively, shaking him out of his reverie of self-pity.

Jesse looked up. Angelo was in the doorway. “What's goin' on?”

“So I talked to Torbjörn about the muffin thing and he says he's alright with it. The only thing is, he wants the muffins here a little earlier in the day. Like around eight instead of ten-forty-five. And I know you don't usually get here until eleven or so, so Torbjörn wants me to pick them up instead. I'll try to make sure they save you one, though. Especially from Jamison,” Angelo added with a laugh.

Jesse felt a bit disappointed, although he had no reason to. Really, any additional business would be good for Ninja Bakery, even if he wasn't directly providing it.

“Unless you get three dozen, I don't think it's likely that there will be any left over,” Orisa pointed out sagely.

“She's right,” Jesse said, suddenly struck with an idea that lifted his spirits significantly. “Don't worry about savin' one for me, I'll just stop by Ninja Bakery on my way to work an' grab a muffin whenever I feel like it. It's... well, sort of on the way, anyway. Not too much of a detour. Besides, I don't want anyone swipin' all of the maple cinnamon chocolate ones. Those are my favorite.”

Angelo looked a little relieved. “Oh, that's good then. Glad it worked out.”

“Mm-hmm. Oh, hey, you might want to mention to Torb that they make deliveries. Maybe then you won't actually have to go out an' get them all the time—Genji can just bring them right to us.”

“Who's Genji?”

“Oh, oops, uh, sorry. He's one of the owners. He makes all the deliveries an' such.”

“Oh, hey, that's a good idea then! I'll float that up to him, see what he thinks. Thanks!” Smiling cheerily, Angelo disappeared again in the direction of Torbjörn's office.

“So, what is it?” Orisa said as soon as he was gone.

“What's what?”

“I saw the way your shoulders slumped when Angelo said you didn't need to go to Ninja Bakery anymore. You wanted to keep going there, didn't you?”

“A little. That's not a problem, right?”

“Of course not. I was just wondering why. There's something there besides the muffins, isn't there?” she added with a laugh and a wink.

Hanzo's face floated to the surface of his mind for a moment. “Well... the other owner, Genji's brother Hanzo... he's a really talented baker. I just like going there.”

“He would have to be talented, to own his own shop, wouldn't he?”

Damn it, Orisa was really good at cajoling information out of him. That, and he would take almost any excuse to gush about Hanzo Shimada. “An' he's also super gorgeous, so there's that. An' he's got a great sense of humor an' a really cool tattoo, an'—”

“Oh, my,” Orisa said. “I thought people usually outgrew crushes once they left high school.”

“It's not a _crush_ , I just...” He trailed off. He couldn't think of a good rebuttal. She was right. “Okay, so what? He's cute. An' it's not gonna go anywhere—I'll get over it in a few weeks. Just lemme enjoy the fuzzy feelin' while it lasts, okay?”

“Oh, I didn't mean to give you the impression I disapprove! I think it's adorable. I just wanted to hear you say it is all.”

Orisa teasing him was new, but not unpleasant. She was a sweetheart. “Okay, okay. I got a crush on a baker.”

She smiled and turned back to her computer. “Enjoy your muffin, Jesse.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heart Orisa so much. She has literally never done anything wrong in her entire life, ever. Also Angelo is 100% based on concept art!Mercy, and he is Angela's younger brother (which will come up later). I love him too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has Tumblr tags now! I'm following the tags "sweet frequencies" and "sweet frequencies mchanzo" where I occasionally post updates, but also you can feel free to post stuff in those tags if you want as well!

“I didn't think it was possible,” Genji said sourly, staring through the window in the kitchen door out toward the register. “I really didn't think it was possible.”

“Quit lurking and do some work,” Amélie said from behind him. “There are dishes you can wash in the sink if you only plan to stand around and be bitter.”

Genji heard a snort of laughter that he was pretty sure came from Akande, but when he turned to glare, both he and Amélie had their heads down, working on their respective projects—Amelie frosting a batch of cupcakes and Akande in the middle of mixing together cookie dough.

“Or you could sweep up back here, or ask Hanzo if he needs any help, or any number of useful things that don't include sulking just because you're apparently not the only eye candy who works here.”

“I'm not _sulking_ ,” Genji said even though he was, actually, sulking a bit. “Anyway, he's too young for Lúcio, isn't he?”

“Said the twenty-nine-year-old, conveniently forgetting all the time he spends flirting with a twenty-four-year-old barista down the street.”

“I don't trust him,” Genji said, deliberately ignoring her. “He's never been here at all before yesterday, and then all of a sudden he's showing up every day?”

“What was that you were saying the other day about Justice the cowboy?” Akande asked lightly. “That he needs to come by more often, was that it?”

“I think it was,” said Amélie with mock casualness. “ _For Hanzo's own good_ , I believe were your exact words.”

“Yeah, well, when _this_ guy is here, Justice the cowboy _isn't_ , and that's the problem.”

“You're fogging up the glass,” Akande said, “and being a little creepy. Just let it go. If Lúcio doesn't want him here, he'll make him leave.”

Genji glared again at Akande before turning back to press his nose against the window. This new guy—Angelo, he think Lúcio had said his name was—was too tall, over six feet tall. He had dark skin but his tightly-curled hair had been bleached and pulled back, and he looked effortlessly cool in dark jeans and a red shirt. He was also really handsome. It made sense that Lúcio was flirting with him too.

Making a face, he pulled himself away from the door and stalked back into Hanzo's office. Hanzo was bent over a sketchpad on his desk and he had the radio in the corner on and tuned to Justice's show. Genji smirked and nearly made a sarcastic remark—Justice had just said something about how a muffin from Ninja Bakery was the highlight of his morning—until he realized that Hanzo was smiling and legitimately _blushing_.

“Well, that's nice of him,” Genji said.

“What—oh. Yes, it is.” Hanzo straightened up at his desk, setting down his pencil and stretching. “What is it? Is there a problem?”

“Nah, I just wanted to see if you needed help is all. What are you working on?” Genji added, moving to the desk and peering over Hanzo's shoulder. Hanzo tilted the sketchbook away from him.

“That wedding cake that we got commissioned. Which reminds me—they'll be here at one-thirty to look over the designs, so can you make sure everything out there is cleaned up and ready to go?”

“It's fine out there,” Genji said. “Besides, I have to pop out for afternoon deliveries in like five minutes. I'll have Lúcio do it.”

“Afternoon deliveries don't start until one-fifteen. You have a half an hour. Just get it done.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Genji said huffily. That was why he hadn't wanted to ask Hanzo if he needed any help—it would almost always be annoying busywork.

Fortunately, Angelo had left in the two minutes Genji had been away from the kitchen window. When he emerged, Lúcio had gone back to wiping down the countertops. Genji could practically see the hearts radiating off him, cartoon-style.

“He'll be back, you know,” Genji said, grabbing a broom and starting to sweep.

Lúcio jolted, flushing. He cleared his throat and tried to look casual. “Yeah, I know. Probably tomorrow.”

“Jeez, doesn't he have _work_ or something?”

“He does, actually—he's an intern at the same radio station where Justice works.”

Genji spun around, eyes widening with glee. “Oh, _does_ he now? Did he say anything else about Justice?”

“No, except that Justice has apparently been making a point of coming here every day before work.”

“Which I expected,” Genji said, gesturing to the speaker overhead. It was still tuned to Justice's channel, but there was a song playing at the moment. “The guy's been talking about this place nonstop. And Hanzo's been listening.”

“Does he know about the archived episodes? The podcast?”

“Not yet. I've been trying to accidentally-on-purpose let it slip. Being subtle is hard work.”

Lúcio smirked. “Yeah, you don't really do 'subtle,' do you?”

“With looks like mine, are you surprised?”

Lúcio laughed now, shaking his head. “No, I can't say that I am. Oh, hey, speaking of not being subtle...” He reached behind the counter and pulled out a sticker. “I picked this up yesterday. Think Hanzo will throw a fit if we stick it on the door?”

Genji grinned, dropped the broom, and gave Lúcio an exaggerated shrug. “Who knows? Let's see what happens. Not like I'm co-owner of this place or anything. I need glass cleaner and paper towels.”

When Akande came out of the kitchen ten minutes later with the first of Genji's afternoon deliveries, Genji was just finishing sweeping up the front, and a rainbow flag sticker was stuck to the glass door just above the handle. Genji was proud of himself.

* * *

“That is still so weird to me,” Livi said, reaching for the source button on the radio unit.

Satya lightly swatted her hand away, her eyes never straying from the road. “Just a moment. I want to hear this song. What's weird, darling?” she added.

Livi smiled and turned up the volume knob a bit. “Feel It Coming” wasn't her favorite song, but she could still get into Phil Collins. “How different Jesse sounds on the radio compared to how he sounds in person. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it wasn't even the same guy. It's that ridiculous Southern accent he puts on mostly, but there's something else to it, too.”

“His voice,” Satya said. “It's a little deeper on the radio. Could be distortion, but I think he also purposely drops his voice a bit. And the confidence when he speaks, it's different, too. He sounds more self-assured.”

“Well, _yeah_ , he's a total loser in real life,” Livi said affectionately. “But I guess it's easier to be confident when you're just monologuing for forty-five minutes.”

“Sounds like you're jealous,” Satya teased.

“Ha! Who wants to ramble on and on about _muffins_ three times a week and make an ass of themselves on live radio?”

“Your brother, apparently. Those must be some delicious muffins—he raved about them Monday and today and as far as I could tell, that wasn't a paid advertisement. Are you sure you don't want to tell him—”

“He can find out on his own,” Livi said, cutting in smoothly, starting to drum her fingers against her thigh. “Let's just focus on the cake. I can't wait to see what kind of ideas I get to tear down.”

Satya hid her smile. “Darling, please. _You_ try making a wedding cake for such an unusual couple. Incorporating Hindu and Mexican designs for a mostly-American audience is a unique challenge for a Japanese baker, don't you think? I'm sure Mei wouldn't have made the recommendation if she wasn't confident.”

“But she also told us that this guy doesn't have much experience with wedding cakes. That has me a little nervous.”

“I know.” Satya took her right hand off the steering wheel and caught Livi's fingers to still them, running her thumb over Livi's knuckles. “It's alright to be nervous. I am, too. But it will be fine. Just breathe. Everything will work out in the end.”

Livi exhaled slowly, squeezing Satya's hand. She didn't like to be nervous—in fact, she hated it. She hated there was something out there she couldn't control, especially when it impacted her directly. But she knew that Satya was right about this. Mei wouldn't have recommended who she had if she didn't believe he couldn't do a good job. And it was true that the actual cake design would present a challenge, but as long as there were two brides at the top of the cake, that was really all that mattered to her. Well, that and both brides having brown skin. If she had to look at another pair of white-skinned bride toppers, she was going to break something.

Whenever they came to A-Mei-Zing Weddings, Livi felt like she was stepping into an igloo. All the décor was white and pale blue, and the air conditioning seemed to keep the internal temperature at about sixty-five degrees. It always made Livi glad she wore long-sleeved shirts, because otherwise, she might freeze.

Mei greeted them warmly as soon as they walked into her office, standing up behind her desk and nearly knocking her lamp over in her excitement. “Welcome back!” she gushed, her pale cheeks turning pink, oblivious to—or perhaps deliberately ignoring—the chaos she'd almost caused and hurrying over to hug Livi and shake Satya's hand. “Are you ready for today? Only ten more days until your wedding!”

Sometimes Livi wondered why they'd hired Mei in the first place. After all, she had the utmost confidence in her own abilities to plan her own wedding. However, at times like this, she was glad they had. Mei was genuinely sweet and bubbly, and better-organized than Livi was. Maybe not as organized as Satya, but Satya was usually so busy at work that she wouldn't have been able to get the wedding preparations done in as short a time as Mei had managed. Mei, having done this far more times than Livi had, was able to keep them calm, cool, and grounded when Livi felt like she might crack under the pressure. Also, Mei had contacts for every aspect of a wedding, while neither Livi nor Satya would have had any idea where to start.

Besides, her enthusiasm was infectious, and it calmed Livi down a bit.

“We're ready,” Satya said.

“Wonderful! I already contacted the baker and he's waiting for you. And Olivia, don't forget, your final dress fitting is next Wednesday at two o'clock.”

“I remember.” She'd put it in her phone calendar and set fifteen alerts for that day just to be sure she'd make it. She wouldn't even be able to get a ride from Satya that day—she'd have to get a ride from her parents. She was sure her papa would use it as an excuse to take an obscene amount of pictures.

“Great! And of course there's also your meeting with the photographer tomorrow! But you said she was the one who took your engagement photos, so I'm sure that one will be fine.”

“Right, we're not worried about her at all,” Livi said. Most of the next ten days was just finalizing plans they'd made several months ago and putting down deposits or paying off the remaining balance. At this point, most of the actual planning was done. It was all just a matter of time now. Livi couldn't wait to stop daydreaming about her wedding and start daydreaming about her honeymoon.

“Okeydokey! You have fun at the baker, then!” Mei said, waving after them as they left.

* * *

Livi had never been to Ninja Bakery before, but somehow, she felt like she knew exactly what to expect when they pulled up. From the outside, she could see an eclectic mix of tables and chairs pushed up against walls and bright colors splashed on the back wall. Affixed to the door—currently being held open as a light-skinned someone with green hair and arms weighted down by green boxes darted out—was a rainbow flag sticker, relaxing Livi somewhat. She was pretty sure Mei had told the cake designer that there were two brides, but having that small bit of reassurance that yes, this _was_ a queer-friendly establishment brought with it a welcome wave of relief.

She and Satya strolled in. Satya went to the cashier, who was the only one they could see, while Livi made a beeline for the display case. They seemed to have a pretty good selection, including some combinations she hadn't thought to try, and sure enough, there was the fabled maple cinnamon chocolate muffin that Jesse had fallen in love with.

“Sati, baby, I'm hungry,” Livi said. “Can I get a muffin?”

“We have food at home, dear.”

“But we didn't have lunch and I'm hungry now.” Livi turned and gave Satya her best “pleading puppy” face.

Satya opened and closed her mouth several times as if to argue, and then finally gave up, sighing. “Alright, dear. Which one do you want?”

“The maple chocolate cinnamon one,” Livi said, hopping back over to Satya to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks!”

Satya smiled, putting an arm around her. “One of those, and one of those, the...” She pointed at another muffin. “The apple cinnamon one.”

“Sure thing,” said the cashier, and he immediately went to grab them. “Want 'em warmed up?”

“Yes, please,” Livi said.

“The same for me. And we also came by to talk to your cake designer? We're here about a wedding cake that was ordered a few months ago.”

“Oh, then you probably mean Hanzo. Sure, just a second.” The cashier—Livi noted that his name tag read _Lúcio—_ put the maple cinnamon chocolate muffin into the microwave on the back counter and then went to the kitchen door. He pushed it open with his shoulder and called, “Hey, Hanzo! You got an appointment about a wedding cake!” Lúcio came back to the front just as the microwave beeped and he swapped out Livi's muffin for Satya's. “He'll be right out. Six dollars.”

While Satya paid, Livi began wandering around again. The splash of colors she'd seen from outside resolved into the shape of a blue dragon with a ninja-style headband. Painted on another wall was what looked like a cherry blossom tree, the pink leaves falling and trailing around the entire room.

It was a really nice place. Livi could see herself spending a lot of time here.

She grabbed the tray that Lúcio had set their muffins on and went to go sit on a couch backed up against a wall, right below the painted tree. The table had a coffee table in front of it and Livi wished she had coffee, too. But this was fine all the same.

Satya sat down next to her and began picking at her muffin. “This is very good,” she said, sounding impressed. High praise from Satya Vaswani. “At least we know the cake will taste good.”

Livi snorted and took a huge bite of her own muffin.

 _Oh._ Now she understood. This wasn't a good muffin—it was an amazing muffin. Chocolate and maple together were cloyingly sweet, but the cinnamon mixed in cut out some of the sweetness to make it perfect and added more... _something_. It seemed like the muffin had _character_. It was memorable.

She immediately understood why Jesse had come here in the first place.

“My apologies. I did not mean to have kept you waiting,” said a voice in front of them.

Livi had been so absorbed in the muffin that she hadn't noticed his approach, and when she looked up, she nearly choked. The muffin might have brought Jesse here initially, but this man must have kept him coming back. He was absolutely gorgeous.

“It's not a problem,” Satya said. “We were only waiting for a moment, and Olivia wanted a snack anyway.”

“Did you make these yourself?” Livi demanded, finally swallowing the bite.

“Yes. They're one of our most popular types. I assume you like it?” The baker—who Livi assumed was Hanzo—looked a bit nervous but also hopeful.

“It's perfect.”

He smiled. “I'm glad to hear it. My name is Hanzo Shimada.”

“Olivia Colomar, and this is my fianceé Satya Vaswani.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you both,” Hanzo said, shaking their hands in turn. He seemed utterly unfazed by the fact that they were engaged, which aligned with the sticker on the door and once more reassured Livi that this was a good choice.

“Our wedding planner, Mei, she said that you don't have much experience with wedding cakes,” Satya said. “Not that I mean to slight your talents, but I just want to be certain that we will still get quality for the price.”

“I understand your hesitation,” Hanzo said with a quick nod as he sat down across from them. “If it was my wedding, I would want assurance that the cake was just as I envisioned it as well. However, I believe Mei recommended me _because_ of my lack of experience with traditional Western-style wedding cakes, not in spite of it.” He laid out a sketchbook and flipped past the first few pages. “I showed some of my design concepts to Amélie, one of my coworkers, and she said there wasn't enough white in any of them. Not to slight _her_ talents, but someone with her background would have approached the design with an entirely Western viewpoint.”

Livi saw Satya quirk an eyebrow in interest. She took another huge bite out of her muffin, taking care not to drop any crumbs on Hanzo's sketchbook.

“These are a few of the ideas that I had. If nothing here really works for you, please let me know and I'll be happy to see what else I can do.”

Hanzo had sketched out eight concepts for the cake. The first three had a significant amount of white, which Livi didn't mind but she knew that Satya didn't like it as much. The rest were far more visually appealing anyway, a creative fusion of Indian and Mexican styles that worked well together. The pages were splashed with reds and purples and gold in the details. Livi liked one in particular, one that had a mostly-Indian influence but highlighted with orange marigolds and pink gladioli.

“I'll give you a few minutes to look them over,” Hanzo said, getting up and leaving his sketchbook behind.

“These are very nice,” Satya said, picking at her muffin some more.

“Uh-oh. Why do I hear a 'but' coming on?”

“I can't decide which one I like the best, that's all. It's between these two,” she said, pointing them out. Neither were the one Livi had liked the most.

“What do you like about them?”

“I like the gold accents on _this_ one—the purple really makes it stand out. But I think _this_ one is more interesting because not all the tiers are the same. I also really like the lotus flower on the top. Which one do you like better?”

“Actually...” Livi bit her lip and pointed. “That one is my favorite.”

“Oh. I see. Why?”

“Well, I like the way it contrasts. The Mexican flowers with the Indian motif. It's visually interesting, too. And it's got the gold accents, too.”

“Hmm.” Satya shifted the sketchbook to get a better look at the design. “I see what you mean. Well, perhaps Hanzo can consolidate some of these ideas.” Satya rifled through her purse and pulled out a pen and a notepad. “Alright, so let's brainstorm. You like the contrast with the Mexican flowers and Indian design here... I liked the lotus and non-repeating pattern on that one... and the purple with gold accents on that one... was there anything else you can think of?”

“No, I think that's a pretty good summary.” Livi leaned back against the couch, taking another bite of her muffin. She wondered if Hanzo would _really_ be able to pull off a design that combined all the pieces that they liked, or if one of them would have to compromise. She supposed it would probably be her, since Satya's family was the one fronting most of the money for the wedding. They'd wanted to keep it between them as much as possible, but it would have been impossible without cash from both Satya's parents and Livi's.

They talked about it for a few more minutes despite the distractions from a handful of customers who entered and left the store. By the time Hanzo came back from the kitchen, Livi had nearly gone cross-eyed, so she was relieved to see him again.

“Do you need more time?” he asked them.

“No, we're ready,” Satya said. “There were a few here that we liked but we had some thoughts. So I liked these two here...” Satya pointed them out. “And Livi liked this one. She liked the overall Indian design with the Mexican flower contrast, while I liked the lotus and the patterns here, and on that one, the gold accents on the purple. I know it's a lot to ask, but do you think there would be any way you could combine those?”

Hanzo picked up his sketchbook and looked over the designs. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked from one to the other and he appeared lost in thought for a few moments. “I understand where you're coming from. The problem with combining all those elements is that the cake will end up looking... overwhelming.”

“Gaudy, you mean,” Livi said.

A smile tugged at Hanzo's mouth. “I was trying to be diplomatic, but yes. Or perhaps ostentatious would be a better word.”

“I see,” Satya said, sounding disappointed.

“However, I believe I can design something that has all the details you like. It will just require me to scale back a few things. Smaller flowers, simpler details. That way it won't look like such a—”

“Mess?” Livi suggested.

“Visual cacophony,” Hanzo finished, his smile widening.

Satya looked relieved. “Excellent. When should we come back? The wedding is in ten days.”

“Another reason I believe Mei recommended me. At a regular wedding bakery, ten days would be a nigh-impossible deadline. For me, it will be ample time. I can send you a few more designs by Friday via email, if that's more convenient for you.”

“Of course,” Satya said, leaning forward. She quickly scribbled down both her and Livi's email addresses, her handwriting still neat, and gently tore the page from her notepad. “Here. We look forward to it.”

Hanzo inclined his head while Livi shoved the rest of her muffin into her mouth. Satya stood up as the green-haired person from before sprinted back into the shop, vaulted over the counter, and hurtled into the kitchen in a blur.

“What was _that_?”

Hanzo sighed, rubbing his temples. “That was Genji, my brother. He's in the middle of his deliveries.”

Livi grinned. “Business is picking up then, huh? Justice the Cowboy keeps giving this place shout-outs on his show. I'm not surprised there's more interest now.”

Was it her imagination, or was Hanzo _blushing_? “I have heard his show. Yes, I believe he has a lot to do with our increased traffic. I just find it odd that I've never actually seen him here.”

 _He doesn't know who Jesse is._ Oh, that was too cute. To stop herself from blabbing, she said casually, “Well, maybe he just gets the muffins from Harmony Coffee. They're the ones who have the sponsorship deal with the station, after all.”

“Yes, perhaps you're right. And we had considered becoming business partners with the station as well since they've set up a standing delivery. Just... perhaps in a few months.”

“That reminds me,” Satya said, opening her purse again. After a few moments of searching, she pulled out an envelope. “Here, the remaining balance for the cake.”

“Thank you. Do you have my business card?”

“Actually, I don't... Livi, darling, do you?”

Livi shrugged. “Don't think so.”

“Just a moment.” Hanzo got up and came back a few moments later with two business cards. “If either of you think of anything else that you might want, just email me and I'll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” Satya said.

“And congratulations on your wedding. I hope we can make your special day even better.”

“Aw, thanks!” Livi said, pretending to blush as Satya dragged her out by the hand.

As soon as the glass door closed behind them, Satya let go. “I can't believe how you teased him. You know very well Jesse has been here.”

“Yeah, so? I mean if Jesse _has_ been here and just didn't tell Hanzo who he is, that's on him, isn't it? It's _his_ life. Maybe he's got a reason for not wanting to show all of his cards.”

“And would that be for the same reason you're deliberately not telling Jesse that Hanzo is making our wedding cake?”

Livi scoffed. “What difference does it make? It's going to get made by whoever makes it. Besides, we were here first.”

“But don't you think Jesse might be interested in that detail?”

“Maybe, but so? Hanzo will only be there for a few minutes to drop off the cake, and then he's leaving. They probably won't even see each other.”

Satya sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Well, I hope you know what you're doing. He _is_ your brother, after all.”

“Come on, Sati, you've met my fathers. I was raised with a heightened sense of dramatic timing.”

“You were a teenager when they adopted you.”

“My formative years! _Especially_ for dramatic timing!”

Satya finally chuckled. “In that case, Jesse will probably appreciate it as well.”

They climbed back into Satya's car and pulled away from the shop. They'd barely made it a block when Livi smacked her forehead. “Damn it! I forgot to ask about cake toppers!”

“What about them?”

“There had better be two brown brides at the top of that cake, or I'm going to punch someone.”

Satya smiled, patting Livi's leg. “We can email Hanzo and make sure he knows, but I doubt it will be a problem.”

* * *

Hanzo walked through the kitchen, sketchpad under his arm, and went right back into his office.

“Who were you talking to?” Genji asked, gathering up the boxes for his next round of deliveries. “They looked important.” He followed Hanzo to his office.

Hanzo rubbed his temples, throwing down his pencil again. “They were the couple I'm designing the wedding cake for, so yes, they were rather important.”

“Ooh, can I see?” Without waiting for an answer, Genji set the boxes down on the edge of Hanzo's desk and pulled the sketchpad toward him. He let out a low whistle. “These are _nice_! Where did you get these ideas?”

“Google, mostly,” Hanzo said. “Their wedding planner just told me that the brides were Mexican and Indian and they wanted a cake that reflected both of their heritages, so I had to do a bit of research. That was slightly hampered by the fact that _traditional_ Mexican weddings are celebrated with a _tres leches_ cake, which is typically very plain. So to that end, I settled for a Mexican-inspired theme. Olivia liked it, anyway. Actually, both of them liked the ideas, but apparently none of them were exactly what they envisioned. But it was a good starting point, so now I have to go back and change some things up.”

“Well, if anyone can do it, you can. I mean, I already think these designs look great, but then again, I'm not the one getting married.” Genji picked the boxes back up. “Okay, have fun!”

His final delivery was to Harmony Coffee, which was the highlight of his afternoon. Hana was behind the counter again, looking utterly bored, and Genji wasn't surprised—despite the twenty or so people scattered across the dining space, no one was actually in line. Next to her, Zenyatta was in the middle of disassembling one of the espresso machines.

“Special delivery,” Genji sing-songed, and Hana finally perked up. “God, you have no idea how glad I am to be here and not at work.”

Hana stuck out her tongue. “You're lucky you get to leave the building and still be on the clock at least.”

“Is something wrong?” Zenyatta asked, wiping off something shiny. Genji honestly couldn't tell if it was supposed to be in the espresso machine or not.

“It's just been a slow day.”

“Duh, it's Wednesday, my dudes,” Hana said. “Here, give me those muffins. I need something to do.”

Genji slid the boxes over the counter. “Oh, Lúcio's got a new... well, I don't know, but this guy named Angelo came in and he's been flirting with Lúcio nonstop for the past two days. He works at the same radio station as Justice the Cowboy, though.”

“Oh, that guy who keeps plugging your store, right?”

“That's the one. Hanzo's _super_ in-love with the guy, too,” Genji said, laughing. “Every time the show comes on, he _swoons_ , and he doesn't even know that Justice has all of his old shows archived in a podcast. It's like every time he hears the show start, he drops everything and just...” Genji set his elbows on the counter, cradled his face in his hands, and heaved a dramatic, dreamy sigh. “All because the guy said he liked our muffins. Too bad Hanzo doesn't know this guy is a total dweeb.” He pulled out his phone, opened up Instagram, and scrolled down Justice's timeline until he got to the video that he'd been tagged in. “Look at this. It's from Monday.”

Hana clapped a hand over her mouth, and even Zenyatta's face seemed to twitch with a restrained smile. “He has a free spirit,” Zenyatta said.

Genji scoffed. “He's a loser, but I'm pretty sure he's got a thing for Hanzo. I just... don't think they've actually met.”

“So, what, are you going to introduce them or something?”

Genji shrugged. “I mean, I don't even think I've met the guy yet. It might be all down to Justice coming down to the store to ask him out. Or Hanzo going over to the station, but that would require him to have more than five minutes a day to himself, so I'm not holding my breath for that one.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could have probably finished this and had it posted yesterday, but I ended up sleeping for twelve hours instead. Mostly because I had today off and I knew I would be able to make up for lost word count, so whatever.
> 
> Like Hanzo, I Googled Hindu wedding cakes and Mexican wedding cakes, and then tried to figure out how you could fuse them together. Honestly, I kind of really like the aesthetic of Hindu wedding cakes! But I also need to do some research on how do a wedding that's like a fusion of Hindu and Western styles that's also LGBT friendly (and consolidated into one day most likely, since Hindu weddings traditionally take three days from what I've gleaned). WHY DID I DO THIS TO MYSELF?
> 
> (Also in this chapter: I finally pass the Beschdel test.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, we're halfway done with this thing! This chapter contained some McHanzo interaction that I did not originally plan for, but I kinda needed to fill out my word count. Not bad, though, considering I wrote most of this today.

As soon as Jesse signed off on Friday afternoon, his phone started buzzing. It figured Livi had waited until he was off the air to bombard him with text messages.

_Hey, you all ready to go?_

_Hey, Sati's waiting._

_HEY!!! Answer me!_

_Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. What are you doing it's 1:17 I know you're off the air I HEARD YOUR SHOW END_

_DON'T MAKE ME CALL DAD_

Jesse very nearly ignored that one, too, but he didn't really want his dad getting involved with this so he finally answered her.

_Where's the fire?_

After all, whatever she had to say couldn't be that important, right?

_DUDE! Did you really forget what's happening tonight??_

Apparently, he _had_. He racked his brain, but nothing came to mind. _Um... yes?_

He could almost imagine Livi growling and throwing her phone in a fit of frustration. _You said you'd help with Satya's bachelorette party! It's starting at six!_

Oh, shit. He _had_ agreed to help with that. Well, not really _help_. He was attending, even though he wasn't one of Satya's close friends. He felt like an idiot for forgetting. _Right, sorry! I'll be there!_

It was important for him to be there for Satya's bachelorette party since Livi had flat-out refused to have one. Six months ago, when the conversation had first been brought up, he'd suggested it and Livi had shot him down almost immediately, saying that she didn't believe in them.

“It's gonna be an excuse for people to take me to a bar and then get groped by strangers who want to convince me I'm making a mistake,” were her exact words. She'd followed it up by saying, “But if you want to have one, Sati, you absolutely should.” And then Jesse had valiantly promised to attend, along with nineteen more of Satya's closest friends, and then he promptly forgot about it. It was a good thing Livi had reminded him.

He still had a few things he needed to do to wrap up at the studio, like submit his set lists for next week's shows and talk to Zarya. Apparently he'd been gushing about the muffins at Ninja Bakery so much that people legitimately thought they were a paid sponsor, and Zarya wanted him to tone it down a bit. He could understand her point, but it was _his_ show, and if he wanted to talk about muffins for his whole show, that was his prerogative, wasn't it?

But he also knew to pick his battles, and he had a feeling this was one he wouldn't win, so he agreed to dial it back on the muffin talk. Besides, he had a feeling that, come Monday, he'd have nothing but interesting stories about tonight with which to regale his listeners.

He left the studio a little after three, which left him plenty of time to get home, shower, and change. He toyed with the idea of stopping at Ninja Bakery to pick up another muffin—he actually hadn't been able to go before work since he'd overslept, barely making it to work before eleven—and very nearly rejected the idea. Then his stomach let out a pathetic growl.

 _I have time,_ he decided, glancing at his phone. It was barely four and sure, he'd be eating again in a few hours, but as far as he knew, they were getting street food so no one would notice if he didn't eat as much.

Of course, now that he'd decided he was going to Ninja Bakery, he had to dress to impress on the off chance Hanzo would be at the front of the store instead of working in the kitchen. Obviously his jeans had to stay since they were a classic look and they made his ass look fantastic. A flannel and a white T-shirt would really complete the look, but the problem was deciding which flannel he should wear. Red seemed too safe—and he was pretty sure he'd worn it before. Blue? It would look odd with the blue jeans, though. Green was too... something. He couldn't put his finger on what looked off about it, but he didn't like it, so he pulled it off.

In the end, he decided on the yellow one. It had hints of gold in it and some red running through it. It didn't look “safe” and it also didn't look like he was trying too hard.

And then there came the debate of which belt buckle to wear with it. The right buckle could really pull an outfit together. He usually wore a thick metal buckle with _BAMF_ emblazoned on it—a gift from his papa on his eighteenth birthday—and he supposed it would make a good fallback, but he wanted to try something different. Fortunately, he had a remarkable collection of belt buckles, mostly consisting of decorative bottle openers, but that wasn't the message he was trying to send. Not to Hanzo.

He rummaged through his buckle drawer until he found the perfect one. This one was another gift, this time from Livi on the anniversary of his first Pride: a bi pride flag. He didn't usually break this one out, preferring to keep it just for Pride events, but he figured this would make an excellent exception.

By the time he'd finally decided what to wear, it was nearly four-thirty. He still had time to stop for a muffin, though, so he quickly tugged his boots back on, swung his hat onto his head, and strolled out the door and down the street.

* * *

“See you tomorrow!” Lúcio called over his shoulder as he headed out for the day. Genji had taken over behind the register as soon as he'd gotten back from his afternoon deliveries, leaving Hanzo in the back with Amélie and Akande. He'd gotten a few more sketches done for the cake for the Colomar-Vaswani wedding, but he wanted to wait until he'd fine-tuned them a bit before emailing the brides with his updated designs. He was pretty sure there was at least one that they would like, and he hoped he could have something nailed down by Monday. He would have to spend most of the next week actually practicing until he felt comfortable enough to put the design on a real cake.

“Why are you so smiley?” Amélie asked him, her tone light and teasing, elbow-deep in flour.

“Am I?” He hadn't noticed, but now that she mentioned it, he realized that his mood had improved over the past few days.

“A little bit,” Akande said innocently. “But mostly between the hours of noon and one on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

Hanzo felt his face heating up. “Don't you think it's odd that Justice talks so much of our pastries and yet he's never been here?”

“Who says he's never been here?” Amélie asked. She wiped her hands off on her apron and began scraping the sides of a bowl to push down the cake batter. “Perhaps he only shows up when you're hiding in your office.”

“Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. He likes the muffins and it's been good for business.” Hanzo hoped that wasn't the case. He'd heard Justice talking about his muffins during the last four shows. At this point, he mostly just wanted to thank Justice for all the air time.

But it was hard to push down the surge of happiness he felt every time he heard Justice say something nice about him, and he also enjoyed tuning in for the show itself. Justice seemed like a genuinely sweet person, a little goofy, and very friendly. His music taste was eclectic and varied, all of the songs he chose somehow heightening the mood of his broadcast for the day. And he also had a pleasantly-husky voice that was easy to listen to. And Hanzo _really_ liked hearing him ramble on about anything. He almost wished—

“Uh, Hanzo?”

He blinked. Both Amélie and Akande were looking at him with barely-disguised amusement. How long had he been standing there staring at the baking sheets? Cheeks burning, he muttered, “Sorry, I must have... spaced out.”

Akande snickered and Amélie tilted her head to the side. “Are you certain? It looked as though you were thinking rather hard.”

“Genji is a bad influence on you both,” Hanzo said, turning around and hurrying into his office. Maybe he slammed the door a bit, but it was entirely on accident.

“I almost feel bad for him,” Akande murmured when he was sure Hanzo couldn't hear them. “I mean, we need to tell him at some point, right?”

“I don't know,” Amélie said. She smirked at the door and began pouring the batter into cupcake tins. “He might figure it out on his own. I'm actually surprised he hasn't already. Besides, there's no guarantee—”

Genji pushed the kitchen door open. “Are there any more of the maple cinnamon muffins coming out of the oven soon?”

Startled, Akande looked toward the oven behind him. “Two minutes left on the ones in there. Why? Someone asking for them?”

Genji grinned, a mischievous, toothy expression. “As a matter of fact,” he said, dropping his voice, “our favorite cowboy radio host is out here.”

“Oh?” Amélie said, raising an eyebrow. “That's a shame. In approximately seven minutes, I should be in the middle of frosting this batch of cupcakes. I couldn't possibly pull myself away, you see.”

Akande shrugged. “I believe I will be restocking some ingredients in the back. It's very important that we keep on top of our baking soda.”

“How unfortunate. Of course, leaving a customer alone is very bad for business—it's simply not polite,” Genji said. “It looks like Hanzo will have to bring them out.”

By now, the three of them were smirking at each other. Genji had told Amélie and Akande on Tuesday that this Jesse McCree who came in nearly every morning now was the real name of Justice the Cowboy. He'd made them promise not to tell Hanzo.

“I hope we're not wasting our effort on this, though,” Amélie said. “We don't know that he has feelings for Hanzo, or if he even likes men.”

“Well, you're half right,” Genji said smugly. “The first part? Absolutely correct. As for the second... he's wearing a bi pride belt buckle.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I must return to our customer. Make sure Hanzo knows we have someone waiting for those muffins.”

He went back to the front and flashed his best “customer service” smile at Jesse McCree. “We actually have a batch coming out of the oven in just a couple of minutes. Hopefully that's not too long of a wait.”

Jesse shifted from foot to foot. “Nah, I can wait. It's not a big deal.”

“Great!”

While Genji watched, Jesse wandered around the store, looking at the display cases, examining the paintings on the walls, and in general shuffling around nervously. The younger Shimada had a very intense stare and he seemed to take amusement in watching Jesse meander anxiously. Could he tell that Jesse wasn't just here for muffins? He wasn't sure what he could do with that information even if he knew the answer.

He pulled his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair before putting it back on. How long had it been? It felt like he'd been waiting for hours.

Was it completely ridiculous to hope for a glimpse of Hanzo? Probably, but since the last time he'd been here, they'd put up a pride flag sticker on the front door, so maybe it wasn't entirely hopeless.

“You seem tense. Are you alright?” Genji asked lazily, his elbows on the counter.

“Y-yeah, I'm fine.” Was there a polite way to say, “I've been trying to ask out your brother for the past week” without sounding creepy? “There's just this bachelorette party tonight that I'm a little worried about is all.”

“Bachelorette party?” Genji asked, suddenly straightening up. “Is it for... someone close to you?”

“As a matter of fact, my future sister-in-law—” Jesse started, but the door to the kitchen opened up, and Hanzo strolled out with a tray full of muffins, including the ones that he'd pretextually come for.

And Hanzo looked just as handsome as the last time he'd seen him, his dark hair pulled back, the elegant gray still streaking his temples. Jesse still wanted a better look at that tattoo, but Hanzo had already gotten to work setting the tray of muffins in the display case.

“You can just leave out one of the maple cinnamon chocolate ones,” Genji said. “Jesse here wanted it.”

Hanzo paused, glancing up at him, and wordlessly slid a muffin over the countertop toward Jesse. Was it Jesse's imagination, or was Hanzo turning pink?

He had no idea what came over him, but he smiled at Hanzo, picked up the muffin, and said, “Thanks, handsome.”

Hanzo's eyes widened and Jesse realized he'd made a terrible mistake. His fight-or-flight response kicked in, immediately propelling toward the “flight” option. He stuffed a huge bite of the muffin into his mouth, turned around, and walked out the door as quickly as he could without being rude. _I fucked up I fucked up I fucked up I fucked up I fucked up—!_

He made it to the end of the block before he finally stopped, doubling over. _That could not have just happened. There is no way that was a thing. I hallucinated all of it._ Hanzo hadn't looked _offended_ , mostly surprised, but... well, Jesse was also pretty sure he hadn't looked thrilled either. He must have come off too strong—or maybe Hanzo was straight. After all, a rainbow flag sticker on the corner of a door didn't mean _everyone_ who worked there was gay, right? He'd seen Genji flirting with Zenyatta at Harmony Coffee—it was probably his idea to put the flag there.

 _That's what I get for assuming._ He sighed and continued down the street, taking another bite of the muffin. It was still delicious, which made him feel bad. _That couldn't have gone any worse._

He made it another ten feet before he realized he hadn't paid. “Damn it.” He turned around to go back.

* * *

Hanzo had nearly dropped the tray when Jesse called him “handsome.” As it was, he'd frozen up completely, but Jesse hadn't seemed to notice. He'd just walked out the door, calm and cool, and meanwhile Hanzo was fighting off a heart attack.

“Are you okay?” Genji asked, trying and failing not to laugh.

“I... I think so.” He set the tray on top of the counter. “What just happened?”

“He thinks you're cute, _duh_.”

“That can't be right.” Or maybe it was, but Hanzo didn't have the requisite brainpower left to work it all out. True, Jesse was attractive, but Hanzo didn't know anything about him, just that he came in for muffins every once in awhile—and if his belt buckle was to be believed, he was bisexual.

Genji scoffed. “Oh, please. You underestimate yourself. I bet he likes you.”

Hanzo's face flushed again. “Irrelevant.” Hands shaking, he quickly placed the rest of the muffins.

“How is it irrelevant? Are you telling me you don't like _him_? Not even a little bit?”

“I'm telling you that it's _irrelevant_. We know nothing about him, and it will probably stay that way.” He snatched the tray off the counter. “And I don't want to talk about this again,” he added sharply, storming back into the kitchen.

Genji groaned, thunking his forehead on the counter. _Quite a flair for the dramatic you have there._ He supposed that could have gone better, but it also could have gone worse.

But not much worse. He realized after staring at the register for a solid five seconds that he'd forgotten to charge Jesse for the muffin. _Damn it!_ He had to think of some way to explain that to Hanzo without making either himself or Jesse look like an ass.

And then Jesse shuffled back in, half-eaten muffin still in hand. “Sorry, I, uh... forgot to pay.”

* * *

The night did get better for him. He and the rest of Satya's friends had a good time at dinner before moving on to a karaoke club. Jesse sang “Ring of Fire” by Johnny Cash before the microphone was wrestled away from him by someone who was far more drunk than he was. By ten o'clock, they'd moved on, but Jesse, tired as he was, begged off, pulling Satya aside for a moment.

“Hey, I'm sorry, but work this week was rough. I know this is your party an' all, but d'you mind if I go back to your place an' keep Livi company instead?”

Satya, three drinks in already, had simply smiled, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek, patting his shoulder. “It's okay. Go spend time with her. She's lucky to have a brother like you.”

“Well, I'm gonna be your brother next week, too,” he said. “Mind if I give you a hug?” She wasn't usually a very physical person and he didn't want to push her into physical contact she wasn't comfortable with, but she nodded and threw her arms around him.

“You're right. We're both lucky to have you. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

He returned the hug. “Yeah, you too.”

He caught a cab back to Livi and Satya's apartment and knocked. From the other side of the door, he heard approaching footsteps and Livi saying, “Don't tell me you're finished already—”

The door opened and Jesse laughed. “Hopefully that's the first time you've had to ask that question.”

Livi groaned. “What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at Satya's party, not here!”

“I know, I know, but I kinda made an ass of myself today an', let's be honest, most of the people there were _her_ friends, not yours. Besides, I figured you might be a bit lonely here by yourself.”

She sighed. “A little. Okay, come on in. I've just been watching _Archer_ anyway. Tell me all about how you made an idiot of yourself, in _excruciating_ detail.”

She poured them both shots of tequila, which somewhere in the back of Jesse's mind registered as a not-so-smart idea, but he took the shot anyway and then flopped onto her couch. She left the bottle on the coffee table. “Okay, let's hear this story.”

“Okay, so y'know how I've been goin' to Ninja Bakery a lot, right?”

“And boring your listeners senseless talking about it, yeah.”

“Ouch,” he said, chuckling. “Probably deserve that. Well, anyway, I went back this afternoon—I figured I could get one since I didn't stop by this mornin' an' all. Well I go in there an' they don't have any of the kind that I like, so I ask Genji, 'Hey, are you gonna get any more of these today?' So he goes into the back an' comes out a few minutes later an' says, 'Yeah, but it's gonna be a few minutes, is that okay?' An' I'm like, 'Sure, no problem,' because really, I'm hopin' that the other owner, Genji's brother Hanzo, is gonna bring out the muffins.”

Livi scoffed. “Why? Sounds kind of pathetic.”

“It _is_ , but... I dunno, Hanzo's gorgeous, an' he makes real good muffins. Like last week, when I told y'all about how I really liked the muffins an' I wanna marry whoever made them or at least the muffin? Yeah, they're his.”

“Come on, looks and muffins are not a stable foundation for a relationship.” Livi took a swig of tequila right from the bottle and made a face.

“Nah, but he's also really funny, too, an' he seems nice. I mean, I dunno if he'd be into me at all, like I think there might be somethin' goin' on with him an' one of the other bakers, I think her name is Amelia or somethin', but you know me, I never shy away from the chance to make an ass of myself. So here I am, standin' around awkwardly, waitin' for these amazin' muffins to come out of the oven, when Hanzo walks out—”

“With the muffins?”

“With the muffins,” Jesse confirmed, holding out his hand for the tequila. Livi handed it over and he took a swig before continuing. “An' Genji's all, 'Wait, leave one out for Jesse, he wanted one,' and Hanzo hands it over an' before I can stop myself, I say, 'Thanks, handsome.'”

Livi groaned, slumping back against the arm of the sofa. “That's _it_? Please tell me there's more to this story than just calling some guy 'handsome'. I signed up for drama, and this isn't it.”

“I mean, I was so horrified with myself that I accidentally walked out without payin', an' I think Hanzo hates me now, but—”

“Oh, come on, why would he hate you? Because you called him handsome?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, I hit on him at work, _and_ in front of his brother.”

She shook her head. “I think you're being too hard on yourself. Did he _say_ anything to you?”

“No, he just looked shocked, probably because he couldn't believe someone had the audacity to hit on him at work.”

Livi groaned again. “ _Ay Dios mio_ , you're useless. You're reading way too much into this interaction. He probably doesn't hate you. I bet he's in awe of your bravery, though. Took some major _huevos_ to flirt with him in front of his brother.”

“Or just some major stupidity,” Jesse said with a shrug.

She sighed. “It'll be better in the morning. Come on, let's take a walk. Harmony doesn't close until midnight.”

They arrived at Harmony shortly after eleven. Jesse had never been here this late—he didn't recognize anyone working behind the counter. The atmosphere felt different after dark, too. The floor-to-ceiling windows now had the blinds pulled down, and the ambient lighting, usually obscured by the sunlight pouring in, cast unusual shadows. There were still a surprising number of people there, plenty of folks working on their laptops and chugging coffee by the venti. Some folks looked to be just getting off work or heading to their night shift jobs. The two of them mixed in with the crowd rather well—him in his cowboy getup and Livi wearing black jeans, black boots, and a sky-blue halter under a black leather jacket.

Some coffee seemed like a great idea just then.

“Sorry about draggin' you outta your house, though. I know you wanted a relaxin' night in.”

“Eh, it's not so bad. Besides, honestly? Seeing how excited Satya was for her bachelorette party kind of made me realize that maybe I had it all wrong.”

“Really? How so?”

“I'm sure for some people, a bachelor or bachelorette party is like enjoying your last bit of freedom before you get married and all, and that's the mindset I hate. Like, if you think getting married is the opposite of freedom, you probably shouldn't be getting married. But Satya's didn't seem like that. It was more like... celebrating the fact that we're getting married at all. She was excited about it because she wanted to brag about being engaged or something. That's... that's alright. And yeah, I still didn't want a big thing like she's having with a million of her closest friends, but hanging out with you? Yeah, I can handle that.”

“Aww, that's actually real sweet.”

“Yeah, don't get used to it.” She stuck out her tongue at him. “Anyway, last call isn't until two, so we can still find a bar out here to lurk in until then. After we get some coffee in us, anyway.”

“An' maybe a muffin,” Jesse said as they finally stepped up to the register. There were only three muffins from Ninja Bakery left in the display, and one of them had Jesse's name written all over it.

“ _Another_ one? Dude, you won't fit into your tux at this rate!”

“I'll just leave it unbuttoned. The vest loosens in the back, right?”

Livi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Hi, can I get a medium caramel macchiato with a shot of espresso, and... whatever this one wants.”

“Large mocha frap an'... that muffin right there.” He pointed at the lemon strawberry one. It figured that the maple cinnamon chocolate ones were sold out by now. There was no way his luck would have been that good.

Five minutes later, they had found a table and were sipping on their coffee. The nights hadn't really started to turn cold yet even though it was the middle of October, so Jesse had no problem drinking his cold frap.

“Hey, let me have a bit of that,” Livi said, pinching her fingers toward the muffin in front of Jesse.

“Sure.” He'd had a bite, and it was still amazing, but not quite as good as the maple cinnamon chocolate one.

She broke off a piece from the top and popped it in her mouth. “Mm. Shit, okay, I get it now. These are some damn good muffins. If I wasn't already engaged, I might have just proposed to this guy myself. Oh, well, looks like he's all yours.”

“Alright, but you're missin' out.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Has a muffin ever given you an orgasm?”

“Uh, no?”

“Good answer. I'm making the right call here.”

Jesse rolled his eyes and had another bite. Once he swallowed, he asked a question that he'd been meaning to ask for awhile. “Are you nervous?”

“About what? Getting married?”

“Yeah. Like, do you ever wonder if you're doin' the right thing?”

Livi sat back in her chair and took a sip of her coffee. “A little. Sometimes. But the way I see it, for every single reason I can think of _not_ to get married, I can think of a thousand more to do it. I mean, we've been together for four years now, living together for three. We've seen each other at our worst, and it hasn't broken us yet. When we have problems, we talk about them—we don't just keep it bottled up until we explode. I mean, that's a great way to make somebody hate you. Besides, when I think about my future, where I see myself in thirty years, I can still see her next to me. I haven't been able to say that about anyone I've dated before. And I know that no matter how nervous I might be sometimes, it's just because of the fear of things changing. It's normal. It doesn't mean I'm making a mistake.”

“Huh. That's... actually really deep.”

“I know, shocking, right? What, are you fishing for quotes to use for your best man speech?”

Jesse laughed and threw back the rest of his coffee. “Nah, I got that all planned out already.”

“Oh, good, glad you're prepared for _something_.”

“Were you serious about going to a bar tonight?”

“Bar, club, I don't really care. We're already out and about. Might as well make the most of it.” Livi tipped her cup and finished off her coffee. “Come on, you can finish your muffin on the way.”

They ended up at a club, the second time in about a week that he'd ended up at one. He was nearly thirty-five and he suddenly felt it, surrounded by people who didn't look like they were any older than twenty-five. It was an awkward, jarring feeling.

Livi, on the other hand, clearly felt no such thing—whether because she was too drunk to feel it or she simply didn't care, he couldn't tell. They'd barely made it through the door (after paying a ridiculous twenty dollars for cover charge) before she'd sprinted over to the dance floor. He didn't know how she made it over there so quickly, but he had a feeling it was because she was so small and nimble—she was able to weave between people without being noticed.

He headed for the bar and got them both a Jack and Coke. He couldn't do more shots of tequila, not like she could. The line to get drinks was obnoxiously long, so by the time he finally got their drinks and set out to find her again, the song had changed three times. Right now, the DJ was playing a Kesha song, so Jesse knew Livi would be right in the thick of things—she adored Kesha.

Most of Livi's dancing was in her footwork. She hopped up on the balls of her feet and twirled to her heels, kicking side to side and spinning, keeping her elbows close to her body. She caught sight of him and waved him over, never breaking step, and he carefully pushed past the crush of people crowding the dance floor, sipping from his glass.

“Is that for me?” she asked, holding out her hands and shouting to be heard over the heavy bass that seemed to pound into his chest.

“Yeah, here you go!”

He had no idea how she managed to keep dancing without spilling her drink, but she pulled it off. She was far more coordinated than he was—his drink was half down and he was still paranoid about spilling it.

“Come on, you gotta dance!”

“I'm gonna make an ass of myself!”

“Welcome to every day for the rest of your life!”

Jesse heaved a dramatic sigh, finished off the rest of his drink in one long gulp, set the glass aside on a table near the dance floor, and rejoined her in the middle. He had no hope of keeping up with her dancing, so he went back to his old standby: line dancing. Hitching his thumbs behind his belt buckle, he started shuffling side to side.

Livi could only watch for a few seconds before she stopped dancing and doubled over laughing, holding her drink out beside her. “Okay, okay, you win! Stop dancing! My eyes are bleeding! Go get us more drinks!”

Tipping his hat to her and grinning, he headed back to the bar. It was going to be a long night, but with Livi, he could think of worse ways to spend it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Livi so much. I've actually decided I'm gonna try to make Sombra my main DPS for Overwatch. Right now, it's still Soldier, but it won't take too much work to get her higher than him.
> 
> Hanzo's gay, by the way. Sorry, I don't make the rules, I just enforce them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know technically this took six days, but to be fair, I was three days ahead of schedule on the 12th, so I decided to take a short hiatus. It also coincided nicely with the halfway mark of this project, so it was a smart choice all around. (Or not. Getting back into momentum for this was LITERALLY HELL.)
> 
> Contained herein: Surprise Pharmercy and old-man cuteness.

It took Hanzo the rest of Friday afternoon to stop feeling flustered. Just when he thought he'd recovered, his mind flashed back to Jesse's simple “Thanks, handsome,” and he felt himself turning red and fighting the nearly-overwhelming desire to dart out the back door and hide by the dumpster for the rest of the day. What had Jesse even _meant_ by that comment, anyway? Genji couldn't be right—based on Jesse's reaction to his own words, he'd clearly regretted saying it, especially considering he practically sprinted out of the store. No, there was no way Jesse had meant it.

Besides, Hanzo had overheard him saying something about his “future sister-in-law” and a bachelorette party—he might be engaged. He didn't know for sure, but he did know that it also wasn't any of his business. Maybe it explained why Jesse had left so quickly—he'd accidentally flirted with Hanzo and then decided to leave before he could do it again.

“You seem preoccupied,” Akande observed, swinging a jacket over his shoulders as he prepared to leave for the day.

Hanzo blinked and realized he'd stopped in the middle of loading up the industrial-sized dishwasher, the dish stand half-filled and another dozen baking sheets waiting on the countertop next to him. “It's nothing,” he said quickly, getting back to work. “Just a... strange day.” _Put him out of your head, Hanzo. He wants nothing to do with you._

 _But what if he did?_ some quiet, albeit hopeful, part of him wondered. That thought inflated a warm bubble in his chest that he allowed himself to enjoy for a few minutes. But as soon as he finished loading and starting up the dishwasher, he popped the bubble.

 _It does not matter. You are far too busy to even contemplate it. Put him out of your head._ The fact was, even if by some miracle Jesse did genuinely like him and they were to begin dating, there was no way they would work out. They were too different.

He went back into his office. He'd finished a few more revised sketches of the Colomar-Vaswani wedding cake. Now all that was required was for him to send them to Olivia and Satya, and wait for their feedback. He hoped they could agree on something he submitted to them now. It was only eight days until their wedding, and he was starting to feel the time crunch.

Amélie stayed until they closed, helping them clean up and inventory for the weekend. Hanzo was grateful for her presence—she kept Genji's attention away from him and the conversation even farther from Jesse. He was also able to focus on something besides the cacophony in his own mind, although based on how he still felt his heart racing from time to time, it would take awhile before he could completely process it and then put it away, hiding the memory somewhere in the back of his head where it would sit, alone and untouched except for when he felt especially sentimental; he would treat it like a shoebox full of photographs on the top shelf of his closet, lingering but unexamined.

By the time he and Genji locked up the shop, threw away the trash, and left for the night, Hanzo lacked the mental and physical energy to do anything but flop into the passenger's seat of the car. Genji gave him a curious look as he started up the car and Hanzo was very close to preemptively telling him to drop it, but to his surprise, Genji did not once again bring up Jesse. “Pizza again?” he suggested.

It was quickly becoming their Friday night routine. Pick up a box of pizza, an hour or two of Netflix, and then bed. After such a full week, it was all either of them cared to do.

* * *

At the shop, the weekend was fortunately less eventful than the one preceding it. They only had two birthday cake orders to fill—one on Saturday and another on Sunday—which was easy enough for Amélie and Akande to handle on their own. After only a week, Hanzo was already pleased with the decision to hire Akande. He'd turned out to be a sterling asset, and now that he was starting to get used to the flow of the shop, he fit with them well.

Coinciding with that, a delivery arrived at the shop early on Saturday. Hanzo already know what was in the compact box, so as soon as he signed for it, he took it to the back and handed it over to Akande.

“What's this?” Akande asked, blinking. He turned the box over and over in his hands, as though he could suss out its contents that way.

“That would be a box,” Hanzo deadpanned.

Amélie let out an exasperated sigh, Genji's face lit up with unbridled glee, and Akande nodded slowly, looking resigned. “Okay, I suppose I walked into that one. What's _inside_ the box?”

“There's only one way to find out. Jeez, just open it!” Genji said.

Akande raised an eyebrow. “I thought you enjoyed needless dramatic tension,” he joked. Still, he began yanking off the tape until the flaps on top came free and opened up. As soon as he saw what was inside, the smug grin on his face turned into a genuine smile, and he pulled out three aprons: all of them white with the Ninja Bakery logo in the middle and Akande's name embroidered on the top left

“Hey, you're in our club now!” Genji said excitedly.

Without waiting another moment, Akande slid one over his head, still grinning. Genji took a picture on his phone, most likely to end up on the site later on, and for a few moments, they all enjoyed the novelty of him being an official member of their staff, with his own personalized aprons and everything. But soon enough, the next batch of muffins came out of the ovens and Genji darted off to make his deliveries, and things in the kitchen went back to business as usual with Lúcio still at the register, nearly selling them out of the blueberry muffins.

He spent the first half of Saturday in his office, answering emails and printing off orders for the next week. Once he finished with that, he had to put in orders of his own to restock their inventory in the pantry and refrigerators. Since his office door was closed and having his hair pulled back for so long gave him a headache, he tugged the elastic band out of his hair and let it fall to his shoulders, skimming the collar of a well-worn blue shirt. He'd put it back up before he went out to help with the baking—which, with Akande's help, might not even be necessary anymore—but for the moment, he would keep it down.

Halfway through Saturday, Olivia Colomar emailed him back. Hoping for good news, he opened up her reply.

As he read, he exhaled slowly, relief washing up his arms and hitting his chest. It _was_ good news—Satya and Olivia had loved his new ideas and they had actually agreed on one. Even better, considering how different their tastes were. This meant that now, he could finally start on the actual logistics of crafting this cake.

* * *

“Come on, old man, you can do better than that,” Gabe said, barely winded as he put on an extra burst of speed to shoot past his husband.

“Don't you start this war,” Jack called after him. “You're older than me, and I can still kick your ass.”

Gabe's only response was to wave over his shoulder and continuing to jog faster, not bothering to cast a backwards glance at him. He knew it would do nothing but goad Jack, which was the intended effect.

They had been jogging along a winding path in the park amid the older folks hobbling around with their dogs and canes. It was the same route they took every weekday in the mornings at this time, through the trees and benches, dodging stay-at-home parents out walking with their toddlers. It was a bright morning, just turning cooler with a crisp edge to the breeze, but the air was still warm in the sunshine.

In Gabe's opinion, it was entirely too serene, and he was _bored_. He had to do something to fuck it up. On a whim, he decided to tease Jack.

But now Jack was fifteen feet behind him. He hadn't taken the bait to chase after him, to rocket past him with muscles nearly as powerful as they had been twenty-five years ago. Gabe's plan had backfired.

He wasn't ready to admit defeat yet, though. He slowed a touch and finally looked back. “Enjoying the view?” he teased.

Jack let out a bark of laughter. “Enjoy _this_ , jackass,” he growled, and suddenly he was running faster than Gabe had seen him move in awhile, quickly drawing level with him and then overtaking him completely, never breaking stride as he sprinted.

Jack hadn't been lying—he _could_ still kick Gabe's ass in terms of pure speed, but he couldn't maintain the pace. Gabe's top speed was a bit slower, but his power rested in his stamina. Even at sixty-three, he could run for fifteen miles without needing a break. Jack usually needed to tap out at nine or ten, less if he'd sprinted like that.

And sure enough, within fifty feet, Jack was slowing down, and Gabe picked up his hustle to match him again until their strides matched, their shoulders lightly bumping into each other's. “You okay, Jackie?” Gabe said, unable to fully wipe the grin off his face.

“That was the worst attempt... to break up the peace... that I've ever seen,” Jack panted.

“Aw, poor Jackie. Wanna stop?”

“Hey, fuck you.” Jack's jaw clenched, although it was hard to tell while they were running like this. “But actually, yes.”

“Okay, _fine_. Where are we stopping?”

He shouldn't have asked. He felt a wave of unease pour over him when he saw the smirk that slid onto Jack's face.

“If you _really_ want to shake things up... how about we swing by Ninja Bakery? I kind of want to see this Hanzo guy Jesse's in love with.”

Gabe would have laughed if he had the breath to spare. “I knew I was a bad influence on Livi. Guess I should have known you wouldn't be immune, either.”

Fortunately, the bakery was only a mile or so away from the park. It was a simple enough route to detour off the park path, head back through the parking lot gate, and rejoin the sidewalk on the side of the road heading back toward the bakery.

Besides, he could eat. Running always worked up an appetite for him, and he was also interested in trying one of the muffins that Jesse kept raving about. Were they really that good? There was only one way to find out.

Less than ten minutes, the slowed to a stop in front of the bakery, wiping the sweat off their foreheads. They stood in the parking lot to catch their breath for a few moments, and Gabe lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe at the sweat dripping down his face. As he dropped his shirt again, he caught a glance of Jack looking admiringly at his abs. Even though they'd been together for over three decades, he always liked to be reminded that Jack still found him attractive. _Still got it._

“You got your wallet, Jackie?” Gabe asked, patting down his pockets and realizing he only had his phone on him.

“Sure do. What's the game plan?”

“This was _your_ idea, instigator. You tell me.”

Jack raked his fingers through his sweaty hair, pushing it back from his face. “Okay, fair. Let's just play it cool. I'm sure Hanzo's a good guy. Jesse wouldn't like him otherwise, right?”

“Play it cool. Right,” said Gabe as they went toward the front door of the shop. There was a gay pride sticker on the glass of the door, intriguing him. Maybe this would go well after all.

Jack pulled open the door. “After you,” he said, still grinning and ushering Gabe inside.

* * *

It was a slow Monday morning. Genji had taken off twenty minutes before with the first deliveries of the day, and it was still several hours before _Showdown_ was meant to air, so Hanzo was stuck, bored, behind the register until Lúcio showed up. Too bad _that_ was a few hours away, too.

He spent most of the morning wiping down the counters and re-arranging the muffins and cookies in the display cases, cleaning out the microwave behind the counter, and waiting for the next batch of muffins to come out of the kitchen. Things got decidedly more interesting, though, when the door to the shop opened up and two men strolled in—one with dark skin, dark brown hair, and a playful smile, the other with light skin, hair so blond it was almost white, and an even more troublesome expression. Both of them were drenched in sweat—judging from their workout apparel, sweatpants cut off into shorts, dry-fit T-shirts, and sleeveless hoodies, they'd just come from the gym, or maybe a run, considering the way the white guy's shoulders seemed a bit sunburned. They also both looked to be at least sixty years old and, despite their age, both were remarkably handsome.

With all the gorgeous men that had been coming here lately, Hanzo was surprised he was still able to function. He was entirely too gay for this.

“Morning,” said the blond one cheerfully. “Can we get two of the...” He leaned back and to his left to get a better look inside the display cases, where the dark-haired one was already crouched down and looking. Hanzo suddenly had a feeling he knew exactly which ones they wanted.

“Two of those maple cinnamon chocolate ones?”

_Thought so._

The dark-haired one laughed. “I can already feel the onset of diabetes.”

“Of course,” Hanzo said, sliding open the case from the back. “Would you like them warmed up?”

“Sure, why not?” said the blond one. “Can't wait to see what all the fuss is about.”

“Jack...” the dark-haired one said, a note of warning in his voice. He stood up, nudging Jack's shoulder.

“What?” Jack asked innocently.

“What fuss?” Hanzo asked. He paused in the middle of putting one of the muffins in the microwave.

“Oh, our son talks about this place all the time.”

“ _Jack_ ,” the dark-haired one said again, raising his eyebrows.

“Your son?”

“Yeah,” Jack went on, heedless of his... husband's (Hanzo guessed—the wedding rings they both wore were a pretty good indicator, and the bands seemed to match) unspoken warning. “He won't shut up about these maple cinnamon chocolate muffins, so we figured, might as well try them, too.” He flashed Hanzo a winning smile while Hanzo went back to heating up the muffins. Something else was going on here that he wasn't seeing. Years of being on the receiving end of Genji's shenanigans had honed his instincts for similar shenanigans transpiring.

“And there was something else, too,” Jack added.

“Jack, _no_ ,” the dark-haired one said, looking resigned.

Jack gave the other man a look that clearly said _Jack, yes_ , and said, “What's the name of that guy he's always talking about? Handsoap?”

“Jack, I swear to God. It's _Hanzo_. And your situational awareness could use some fine-tuning.” The dark-haired man gestured to Hanzo. “That's him.”

“Oh! Oops. Sorry, I totally missed that!” Jack laughed sheepishly.

“Well, maybe if you weren't so determined to make a complete ass of yourself, you would have noticed,” the dark-haired man said lightly.

Jack made a noncommittal noise and shrugged. “Eh, maybe, maybe not. But hey, it looks like Jesse has good taste.”

The microwave behind Hanzo beeped. He felt his cheeks heating up as he took one muffin out of the microwave and put the other one in. “Did you say Jesse?” he asked, putting the first muffin on a plastic tray from under the counter.

“Yep,” Jack said proudly. “Apparently, he's in here all the time. You've probably seen him. Six feet tall, scruffy beard, dresses like a low-rent cowboy—”

“ _Jack_ ,” the other man said sharply. “Stop. Just pay the man. He's already embarrassed—no need to make it worse.”

That wasn't exactly true. Hanzo _was_ blushing, but not from embarrassment. No, Jesse apparently actually _did_ like him, at least if his parents were to be believed. If anyone was going to be embarrassed by this exchange, it would probably be Jesse himself. Hanzo almost felt bad for him. _Almost._ At least now he had a good idea of where Jesse's laid-back attitude had come from. He'd have to be relaxed to survive living with Jack.

Jack paid and wandered outside with the first muffin while the other man waited for the second one.

“Sorry about him,” he said sheepishly, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Jack's not so good with subtlety. I've been working on him for years, and it still hasn't taken.”

“It's alright,” Hanzo said. The microwave beeped again and he went to take the muffin out.

“Yeah, but still. Can't take him anywhere. Gabe Reyes, by the way. That asshole I married is Jack Morrison. Try not to let us influence your opinion of Jesse. He's a good guy.” Gabe picked up the muffin Hanzo set on the tray and started peeling away the paper. “Besides, Jack's right—Jesse has good taste in men. He wouldn't like you if you weren't worth liking.” He took a bite of the muffin and his eyes widened with surprise. “And apparently he's got good taste in muffins, too. Holy shit, this is good. Wow.” Gabe started toward the door, waving over his shoulder. “We'll definitely be back soon. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

The door swung closed behind him, and Gabe rejoined his husband outside. They strolled away, mouths full of muffin, and Hanzo let his forehead fall to the counter with a _thunk_. It felt like the aftermath of a tsunami.

* * *

“I think that went well,” Jack said as Gabe strolled outside.

“A resounding success. If I were a gambling man—and I am—I'd wager he likes Jesse, too. Did you see the look on his face when you actually said Jesse's name?”

“He lit up like the sun. That's a good sign.” He took a huge bite of his muffin. “Jesus, no wonder Jesse wouldn't shut up about these things. And Hanzo made them? He's a catch.”

“Mm-hmm,” Gabe agreed around a bite of his own. He swallowed and added, “Wish we got some water, though. I'm parched.”

“Looks like we're stuck going to the 7-Eleven. No way we're going back in there, not after that scene,” Jack laughed.

“Not today, anyway. We definitely need to go back for some of these muffins at some point, though. I hope Jesse _does_ end up marrying him, because if he does, we get an unlimited supply of these.”

They chuckled about that for a few moments, enjoying the sunshine as they walked. Gabe reached for Jack's hand and threaded their fingers together; Jack ran his thumb over the back of Gabe's hand.

“Great job back there, by the way,” Gabe said. “You really nailed the 'oblivious dad' routine. Have you been practicing?”

“You're one to talk. I really thought you were mad at me for a minute.”

“Even if I was, I couldn't stay mad for long, not with that smile.”

Jack laughed. “And _that's_ how you add some excitement to an otherwise dull day.”

“And meddle with your son's love life while you're at it,” Gabe reminded him.

“If he ever finds out, I'm sure he'll get over it. _Especially_ if it ends up paying off for him.”

“In the form of a baker boyfriend?”

Jack's grin widened. “Exactly.”

Gabe shook his head, smiling. “I'm not sure who's the worse influence anymore—you or me.”

“I'd say we're both pretty bad,” Jack said. He tugged Gabe to a stop under a tree, pulled him close, and kissed him. Gabe leaned into him, wrapping his arms, muffin and all, around Jack's waist. “I don't know about you,” Jack murmured against his mouth, “but I've had enough of working out for the day.”

“I hope not,” Gabe said, lips quirking up into a smirk. “I've got another workout planned for you when we get home.”

“Then I guess we better get home soon.”

* * *

Genji always tried to take his time with deliveries on Monday mornings. Everything seemed a bit slower for some reason, and besides, he figured that Hanzo standing behind the register for a few hours until Lúcio arrived was good for him. Hanzo wasn't very social—it was a rare day when he talked to more than five people. That couldn't be healthy for him.

Besides, everyone else he delivered to usually went a little slower on Monday mornings as well. The patrons at the convenience stores all seemed to struggle to throw off the languor of Sunday afternoons; nearly everyone was yawning and blinking, sipping on coffee to try to feel human again.

Even at Harmony Coffee, as Genji rocketed in with the usual delivery, most people in line seemed half-asleep still. Hana behind the register looked mostly awake, as did the rest of the baristas, but they were an exception. Zenyatta, on the other hand, seemed completely above it all. Out of everyone there, he was the only one who looked fully awake and present, smiling as he placed orders on the counter to caffeine-starved customers.

“Good morning, Genji,” Zenyatta said, looking—well, _radiant_ , he would have said, if he felt like being a sap. Which he absolutely did not. Not even when Zenyatta had that warm gaze on him.

“Morning, Zen,” Genji said. He hefted the boxes onto the counter and flashed the cheesiest smile he could muster at him. “Special delivery, from our ovens to yours.”

Hana scoffed. “That doesn't even make sense, Genjamin,” she said, using the senseless nickname everyone at Harmony called him.

“It doesn't _have_ to make sense, _Hanalisa_. It's Monday, and nothing in the world makes sense.”

Hana ignored him in favor of taking the order of the next customer in line. Genji straightened his headband and leaned against the display case. “Can you sign?” he asked Zenyatta, pushing the clipboard toward him and letting his head loll against the clear plastic. He folded his hands together on the case, resting his whole body against it like it was the back of an oddly-shaped chair that he was draping himself over.

“Just a moment. If you don't mind waiting, we're a bit busy right now. Order for Angela!” Zenyatta looked at him, black uniform polo shirt with Harmony Coffee's logo stretched across his shoulders, his expression unreadable. Genji would have given anything to know what Zenyatta was thinking when he looked at him like that.

“Sure, I can wait. Time isn't even real, and I definitely don't have anything better to be doing right now.” Besides, staying at the bakery all day sounded impossibly dull. He loved going out and making his deliveries.

“Except working, perhaps?” Zenyatta suggested, a note of teasing in his voice.

“I _am_ working. I'm delivering deliciousness to the masses. Unquestionably, I am doing the will of the universe.”

“I don't believe that's how it works. Angela! Order for Angela!”

“Can you just let me enjoy the small mercies I'm bestowing on the citizens of this town?”

“A most gracious benefactor. We are truly undeserving of your bounty,” Zenyatta said.

“It's not even _mine_ , it's really Hanzo's. But sure, I'll take the credit for it, why not?”

“And so humble, as well. Order for Fareeha!”

Genji pressed a hand to his heart and closed his eyes. “You wound me. I thought you liked me. I see now that I was mistaken.” Although that touched on a bit of a sore spot for him. He did have a huge crush on Zenyatta, but Zenyatta was inscrutable with his feelings. Genji could never get a read on him, but maybe that was part of the appeal. Everyone else he flirted with either openly flirted back or flat-out rejected him. No one besides Zenyatta teased him in such a low-key way that he couldn't figure out how they really felt about him. The not knowing was what drew him in.

“Hey, thanks,” said a dark-haired woman, sidestepping Genji to get to her drink on the countertop. She took a long swig of her coffee and started walking, just as a light-haired woman hurried over. Genji barely had time to hold out his hand, his mouth open—“Watch out” still halfway between his brain and his mouth—when the two women collided into each other, slopping coffee down the front of the dark-haired woman's formerly clean yellow shirt.

Genji couldn't look away. The other woman looked horrified, her hands covering her mouth and nose. “I'm so terribly sorry!” she gushed past her fingers. “So sorry! Here, let me—”

Genji grabbed a fistful of napkins and handed them to the blond woman, who immediately began dabbing at the dark-haired woman's hands. “I'm so sorry, I was in such a rush, I wasn't looking where I was going—”

Her voice was lightly accented, one that Genji couldn't quite place.

“What did you have? A latte? You can just have mine, I'll order another one,” the blond woman went on, handing a few more napkins over so the other woman could start drying her own shirt. “I should have been paying more attention, I can't believe I didn't see you—” And was it Genji's imagination, or was she blushing when she looked at the dark-haired woman? This was by far the most interesting thing that had happened this morning.

The dark-haired woman finally spoke up. “It's alright,” she said quietly. “It's just coffee.”

“But your shirt—”

The woman smiled. “I work with five-year-olds. It happens. I always have extra shirts in my bag,” she added, lifting the messenger bag slung over her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Oh, yeah, the blond woman was _definitely_ blushing now. “Of course. Um, here.” She reached back for her own coffee and held it out. “You should take mine. I can get another one.”

“I thought you were in a hurry... Angela,” said the dark-haired woman, tilting her head to look at the name on the side of the cup.

“Oh! Um, only to get my coffee. I was on the phone with my brother—I didn't hear them call my name at first, so I rushed over. Foolishly. But you—I'm sorry, you must be in a hurry yourself, here—”

“Actually,” Zenyatta said, finally speaking up, “I can simply make your order again, Fareeha, if you don't mind waiting.”

“Of course, thank you.”

Angela still looked embarrassed, but she focused on the boxes on the display case next to Genji and let out a gasp. “Ninja Bakery! My brother was just telling me about—”

“Your brother?” Genji asked, spinning around. His lazy observation was now a sharp interrogation. “Your brother wouldn't happen to be named Jesse, would he?”

“What? No, his name is Angelo. I know, I know, what parents name their daughter Angela and then their son Angelo? But to be fair, we were both adopted and it was just a coincidence. But he was telling me that the muffins are the best he's ever had.” Angela stood on her tiptoes, as though she would be able to see inside that way. “Do you have the raspberry lime ones? Angelo loves those.”

“I'll take one, too,” said Fareeha, looking intrigued. “Both of them on me.”

Angela's whole face turned bright red. “Oh, I couldn't, not when I just—”

“I don't mind,” Fareeha said cheerfully. “Really. Two of the muffins, please.”

Angela took a sip of her own coffee to hide her blush. “Thank you, Fareeha. Really, you're too kind.”

“Oh, nonsense. I want to try one, too.”

Genji kept watching, still curious, as Zenyatta steamed more milk for Fareeha's replacement coffee and then started arranging muffins in the display case. He left out two for Fareeha and Angela, accidentally-on-purpose ignoring the clipboard Genji had left on the counter.

It wasn't like Genji was in any rush to go back to the bakery, anyway. This was infinitely more interesting than anything that happened at the shop, including Angelo (was he the same Angelo who was Angela's brother?) flirting with Lúcio. Besides, with Hanzo behind the counter, if Jesse showed up for a muffin of his own, there was definitely a stronger chance for more interaction with them. Hanzo really needed to get out more.

Within a few more minutes, Zenyatta had prepared another coffee for Fareeha and slid both her and Angela's muffins across the counter on a tray. “Enjoy your day,” he said serenely, and the two women returned to where Angela had been sitting at a table near the window.

“Well, that was cute,” Genji said.

“It was indeed.” Zenyatta never paused, expertly juggling the preparation of lattes, cappuccinos, macchiatos, and frapuccinos, and still managing to find time in the spaces to put away the muffins that Genji had brought over. A few more people came through the line who were pleased to see the muffins had arrived, but Genji still didn't leave, not even after Zenyatta finally signed for the delivery and pushed the clipboard back toward him.

“Perhaps this time you won't forget this here. I imagine Hanzo will not be happy if you leave this again. It seems important,” Zenyatta added, his eyes twinkling.

Genji bit his lip, hugging the clipboard to his chest. He was just starting to debate with himself the pros and cons of saying something, something to seek clarity for what their relationship was, when his phone buzzed in his pocket, two short buzzes that indicated a text message.

It was his brother, wanting to know where he was. He was expected back ten minutes ago.

He sighed, looked up at Zenyatta—in the middle of two more orders, called out by Hana sliding cups down the counter—and decided to let it go. For now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez, why is Zenyatta the only barista who does any WORK? Where are the rest of these baristas I keep mentioning but never name or describe??
> 
> Oh, hey, once the main story is done, there will probably be porn of this 'verse to follow in subsequent works.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic now has fanart! Head on back to chapter 1 to see it!
> 
> The song that Jesse plays when his broadcast ends is [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_B7HONEGZOs). You should give it a listen.

Jesse Justice McCree was no coward.

Absolutely not. He was smart, and he was _cautious_. After Friday's embarrassing incident, he was just going to let things cool down a bit. He'd definitely come on way too strong. There was no need to rush headlong into even more humiliation by looking like an overeager teenager pining after a high school crush or anything. That was... _foolish_. He was no fool, either.

Besides, on Monday he'd overslept and couldn't make it over to Ninja Bakery even if he'd _tried_. As it was, he'd barely had time to stop for a coffee at Harmony, catching a glimpse of Genji Shimada darting out of the shop about thirty seconds before he walked in. Jesse was pretty sure Genji hadn't seen him, which was fine. He'd made an ass of himself in front of both Shimadas and he didn't feel like confronting that right now. The last thing he needed was to remind Genji of his existence and then have him remind Hanzo.

Harmony was crowded but at least he was able to get his coffee relatively quickly, Zenyatta passing him his drink barely a minute after he'd ordered it. He cast a quick wave at Angelo's older sister Angela on his way out. She barely noticed him, though; absorbed deep in conversation with the daughter of a family friend, Jesse didn't feel like intruding on them.

And then maybe his papa sent him a photo of him and his dad with faces full of muffins—it looked like they were on their way home from their morning run—and the caption, _He looks as good as he bakes!_

Jesse suddenly felt very, very cold in a way that had nothing to do with the frap in his hand. _Please tell me you didn't go to Ninja and bother Hanzo._ He had a feeling he already knew the answer. Thank God he'd decided not to go today—if he'd walked in on his parents bothering Hanzo, he'd never be able to show his face at the bakery again. As it was...

Okay, maybe Jesse was a bit of a coward.

He managed not to talk about Ninja Bakery during his broadcast, not even once. Sure, he _thought_ about it, but Zarya had made it pretty clear that he should just stick to advertising their sponsors, and only immediately before commercial breaks. It was tough, but he consoled himself with the fact that Hanzo probably liked someone who could play it cool. He had a stoic aura about him, and Jesse was definitely not cool enough for that.

So maybe taking a step back was the smartest choice here, especially considering his own slip-up and his parents deciding to go bother Hanzo. He just hoped they hadn't embarrassed him too much—although if he knew Gabe and Jack—and he did—then he should already be disappointed.

 _At least Livi doesn't know who he is._ If all three of them knew Hanzo, there would be no way he could recover from that.

He avoided the bakery on Tuesday and Wednesday as well. He'd probably be avoiding it for the foreseeable future, getting his muffin fix from Harmony instead. Maybe he'd go back in a month or two, once he felt a sufficient amount of time had passed that the sting of embarrassment wasn't as sharp—and hopefully, Hanzo would have forgotten about meeting his parents in the meantime. At least, if he was lucky.

* * *

When Justice signed off on Wednesday, Hanzo couldn't quite contain the sigh that escaped him. He knew it was such a minute thing, but he'd gotten used to it quickly. And in light of Jesse's parents stopping by the bakery to talk to him, he'd expected Jesse himself to make an appearance sometime on Monday, maybe in the afternoon. But he never showed up, nor on Tuesday. Come Wednesday, he was _sure_ that would be the day, but as morning faded into lunchtime and Justice's broadcast finally ended, he found himself disappointed again. But maybe it wasn't just him—the last song Justice played, the song between his show and the next, was called “Cringe” by Matt Maeson, and it was suitably melancholy.

“Hanzo,” Genji said, nudging his shoulder gently.

Hanzo appreciated the gesture—he was tweaking some technical issues for the Colomar-Vaswani wedding cake, which would mean they'd be selling slices of the prototype cake for the next two days—but he was already aware of Genji's presence and wasn't startled. “Yes?”

“You seem... let down. What's wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Hanzo said. He pointedly tilted his head, as if in focus of his current project.

“You are lying. You won't look at me.”

He _hated_ when Genji used that on him. “I'm busy,” he said shortly.

“You're sulking. Is it...” Genji pointed to the ceiling, indicating the speaker that was still tuned to the same radio station that aired Justice's show. “He didn't mention the shop today. Or Monday, for that matter. Is that why you're sulking?”

“I'm not _sulking_ ,” Hanzo snapped, even though he definitely was.

Genji let out a disgusted sigh, shaking his head. “Alright, fine.” He pulled out his phone and tapped on the screen a few times. Hanzo's phone buzzed in his pocket. “This stopped being funny last week anyway, and now it's just getting ridiculous,” Genji said, looking up at him again. “Don't say I never did anything to help you.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he stormed out of the kitchen and tried to slam the door, forgetting it was a swinging one.

 _What was_ that _all about?_ Hanzo wondered, pulling out his phone to check it.

Genji had sent him a link to a podcast—but not just any podcast. _Showdown with Justice the Cowboy._ The cake forgotten on the island next to him, he scrolled through the episode list and realized it was a complete archive of Justice's show, starting a few years back. The older shows were only a half an hour long, but the more recent ones were a little under an hour—apparently they cut out commercial breaks. The most recent update was from yesterday, with Monday's show.

He had no idea what to make of it, but a tiny part of him was angry that Genji had kept this from him. A larger part, however, was grateful that Genji had told him, _finally_. He began downloading the first twenty episodes, starting from the first broadcasts, and went to his office to locate a pair of headphones.

* * *

Sure, Jesse was still feeling shitty because of the Hanzo situation (as he now referred to it in his head), but when he signed off on Wednesday, his mood brightened a bit. He only stuck around at work until two this afternoon because Livi was picking him up, and spending time with her always cheered him up.

When she arrived, he was stuck in the back seat because Gabe was in the front. He and Jack were also coming along to Livi's final dress fitting. As Livi's best man, it was important for Jesse to be there, and besides, it would also help take his mind off the negative things that had happened over the past few days.

“Hey, Jesse, you ready for some fun?” Livi called back to him as he buckled his seatbelt.

“With these two? Nah, they're still on my shit list. I think I'm gonna just group up with Ana an' Rein today.”

“Us?” his papa asked innocently. “What did _we_ do?”

“You know what you did.”

“Oh, come on, you can't blame us for _that_!”

“ _I_ don't know what happened—what happened, Papa? Dad?” Livi asked, peering from Gabe next to her to Jack in the back seat.

“Not to sound too dramatic, but they literally ruined my entire life, an' now I can never show my face in Ninja Bakery as long as I live.”

Jack snorted with laughter. “It wasn't _that_ bad.”

“Wasn't it?” Gabe asked.

“Okay, seriously, tell me what's going on.”

“Well, your papa and I were out on our run, and we decided, hey, why not finish up with one of those muffins that Jesse won't shut up about, _and_ meet this guy that he likes so much,” Jack started.

Jesse groaned, sinking in his seat. “ _Dad._ ”

“So we walk in, and he's right there, behind the counter.”

“As it turns out, yeah, Jesse's got good taste in men—Hanzo's really good-looking.”

“Papa, please, I don't need your commentary on—Jesus, I don't even know if he likes men, okay?”

Jack and Gabe exchanged knowing smirks. “I'd say it's a pretty safe assumption,” Jack said. “So we start talking to him. I _may_ have mentioned something about our son not being physically capable of shutting up about the muffins—”

 _Oh_ , Jesse thought, relaxing slightly. _Maybe they didn't mention me by name._

“—and Hanzo says, all confused, 'Your son?' So I'm like, 'Yeah, sure, and besides, he also talks a lot about the guy who makes the muffins, too.'”

“What did you call him?” Gabe asked, laughing. “Handsoap?”

Jesse prayed for them to get T-boned by a large Mack truck. Preferably on his side, so he'd be taken out first.

“Yeah, that was it! And Papa was all, 'No, no, it's _Hanzo_ , and this is him!' So I'm like, 'Oh, well, it looks like Jesse has some good taste then.'”

“Thanks. I can never go back there again. Really, I appreciate it.”

Gabe shook his head, still chuckling. “It wasn't that bad, kiddo. Really. I mean, he seemed surprised, but he also seemed flattered. I don't know, though—what did he say when you went back?”

“Back where?”

“To the shop? You went this morning, right?”

Jesse chewed on his lip. Livi gave him a piercing glance in the rearview mirror before she finally spoke up. “Pops, Dad, maybe you should drop it. Jesse _really_ doesn't look like he finds it funny.”

He didn't, and he was grateful to her for coming to his defense. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his parents going out of their way to meet Hanzo—under different circumstances, he might have been thrilled. But this was the first time he'd liked someone in a few years now, and he'd been enjoying having his feelings for awhile without his parents swooping in to stir things up. Besides, he didn't even know if Hanzo liked him. There was a lot of unknowns, and he was being teased. He loved them, but all of them—his parents _and_ Livi—had been in relationships for so long that they'd clearly forgotten how it felt to be _maybe_ teetering on the precipice of something promising, waiting for a nod to finally jump.

He wished they could just focus on Livi right now. It was only three days until _her_ wedding—why were they so focused on him, anyway?

They did finally change the subject—Jack started asking Livi questions about a video game they both played. Despite Jack having far more free time than Livi, she was still a much better player, but Jesse attributed that more to his age and relative inexperience with first-person shooters. Apparently another player had taken Jack under her wing and was coaching him through aiming tips, some of which Livi hadn't known before. Jesse couldn't follow most of it—he wasn't a video game player aside from the occasional _Mario Party—_ but the two of them chattered away happily, killing the rest of the ride between the radio station and the salon where Livi's dress was.

When they pulled into the parking lot, Ana Amari's beat-up blue Jeep was already idling in one of the spaces in front of the salon. Both front doors were wide open, and as Livi swung around to park, Jesse caught a glimpse of both Ana and Reinhardt Wilhelm with a leg each out of their respective doors. Both Ana and Rein were old Army friends of Jack and Gabe, and Jesse and Livi were pretty friendly with Ana's daughter Fareeha. By now, Ana and Rein were basically their weird aunt and uncle.

As soon as they were parked, Ana hopped out of her car and slammed the door, bounding over to Livi's door with a surprising spryness, considering she was already sixty-five. She wrapped her arms around Livi in a tight hug the moment she'd stepped out of her own car, taking care not to spill her travel mug; Ana laughed with pent-up joy. “Ah, _ya binti_ , you're looking as beautiful as ever! How are you doing? How's Satya?”

“Just fine, we're fine, thank you, Ana. I'm so glad you could make it today! I wasn't sure you and Reinhardt would be able to come along.”

“We wouldn't miss this for the world!” Reinhardt said, his long legs easily crossing the distance between them. As soon as Ana let Livi go, Reinhardt picked her up and crushed her in a bear hug that had her laughing breathlessly—he was nearly seven feet tall and built like a mountain.

“Besides, sniping your fathers from the shadows has always been one of my favorite things to do,” Ana said lightly, sipping from her mug as Jesse, Gabe, and Jack got out of Livi's car as well. Jesse couldn't tell for sure what she'd brought along, but he was pretty sure it was tea—she drank more tea than most people drank coffee.

“Hey, that was _one time—_ ” Jack started, but Gabriel snorted with laughter.

“Every time we do this, you mean?” he said.

“More like five times,” Ana added smugly.

“Well, then, I'm glad I'm on your team this time,” Jesse said.

“Oh, really?” Ana asked, raising an eyebrow. “Your defection comes as a surprise, but I suppose it _was_ inevitable. It was too unbalanced with you playing against us. Maybe now the Reyes-Morrison team will finally have a chance to beat us.”

It wasn't until Livi practically screamed with laughter that Jesse realized he'd been insulted. He'd almost been fooled—between Ana's smile and her accent, it was hard to take her at anything but her word. He let out a resigned sigh, shaking his head with a half-smile. “They can hope, but I've been workin' on my aim, an' I got a bone to pick with both of 'em. You might not be able to get any shots in at all.”

Ana tilted her head to the side, still smiling serenely. “I wouldn't be too sure about that, boy.”

Gabe looked around, a hint of nerves flickering across his face. “Did anyone else feel that? I swear the temperature just dropped five degrees when she said that.”

The expression on Ana's face was definitely chilling in its serenity, and Jesse was glad he'd decided to play on her team today.

“That's the cold sting of death coming for you, Gabriel Reyes,” Ana sing-songed. “I hope the Reaper is ready to fall before Horus today.”

“She's just trying to get in your head,” Jack said, throwing an arm around Gabe's shoulders. “Don't let her win. You just have to be a rock.”

“Or smarter than one.”

Livi's phone started ringing, but she silenced it almost immediately, heading toward the door to the salon. “As much as I hate to break this up—and really, I do, this is the funniest thing I've witnessed all day—it's time for my appointment. Are you all coming in or not?”

“I _gotta_ be there,” Jesse said, following after her. “Might as well let the adults stay out here an' finish talkin', though.”

“ _Adults_?” Reinhardt roared after them, sounding offended. “I'm barely sixty-four—hardly an _adult_! How dare you insinuate—”

The door closed on them, cutting off the rest of what he was yelling into loud incoherence, but Jesse knew it was all in good fun. All he talked about was how he couldn't wait for his friends' kids to start having babies of their own so he had more children to look after.

“Hello,” said the receptionist at the front desk. “Are you here for a fitting?”

“Yes—Olivia Colomar.”

“Oh, here you are, Miss Colomar, two-thirty. And is this the groom?”

Jesse nearly choked on his own spit. “No—absolutely not—” he spluttered, but Livi cut in smoothly.

“No, this is my brother Jesse. Jesse McCree. He's actually got a final fitting for his tux today, too.”

“Oh, I'm sorry! Of course, I see him in here as well. Right this way,” the receptionist said, moving out from behind the counter.

There was a sour look on Livi's face as they followed after the receptionist, and Jesse had a feeling he knew what it was about. Sure enough, they'd barely made it five feet before Livi finally said, “It's another bride, by the way.”

“Excuse me?”

“The person I'm marrying. I'm marrying a woman. You must be new, so you didn't know. But maybe next time, don't assume that every person who walks through that door is straight, because I can guarantee that the next four people who walk in definitely are not.”

The receptionist looked mildly alarmed at being called out, and could do little more than mumble, “Of course, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed,” but Jesse could tell the words were half-hearted.

They were shown into a small room in the back, and as soon as the receptionist was out of earshot, Livi sighed, exhausted. “I swear to God, Jesse, every time someone mistakes me for a heterosexual, I lose five years off my life.”

“I know what you mean. You'd think this place would be better about that kind of thing, but I guess not.”

Livi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Well, at least the stylist knows better. You don't think I overreacted, did you?”

Jesse shook his head, scoffing. “Not at all. Handled it better than I would've, that's for sure.”

Livi didn't appear satisfied with that answer. She began pacing the room, twirling her car keys around her index finger. Jesse could do little more than just sit there and watch, hoping the stylist would get there soon.

Reinhardt was the next one to join them, insisting on taking selfies with them for Instagram. Jesse actually thought it was pretty funny that Reinhardt, in his enthusiasm, spent more time on social media than people half his age, and he was immensely proud of the two thousand followers he had on his Instagram—which was more than Jesse had, not that he minded. He liked not being swamped with notifications when he turned on his phone.

By the time the stylist finally showed up, Livi had calmed down significantly and was laughing at Vine compilations over Reinhardt's shoulder. “Sorry that took so long,” the stylist said, holding out two black garment bags suspended on hangers. “But you'll be happy to know that your dress and your tuxedo are looking perfect. Ready to try them on?”

Livi, who had been waiting for this moment for a week, had the bag snatched out of the stylist's hand and was out the door into a dressing room before Jesse could even get out of his seat. Chuckling, he took his own outfit and went into the room next to hers.

When he finally emerged ten minutes later, Livi had her head stuck out of her door, waiting for him. “You could have gone without me, you know,” he said, closing the dressing room door behind him.

“Oh, please, and have you steal the attention away from me? I don't think so,” she said, but she was grinning at him. “Okay, let's see how it looks.”

“You first.”

“No, _you_ first! It's _my_ wedding, Jesse!”

He sighed, smiling. “That's gonna be your excuse for everything until Saturday, isn't it?”

“Damn right, it is. Come on, show me the goods.”

Snorting with laughter, Jesse strolled out and spun for her so she could get a good look at the whole ensemble.

It wasn't so bad, if Jesse was asked his opinion. The tux was a dark gray, only a shade or two lighter than black, and the shirt underneath was white. His bowtie and cummerbund were vivid violet silk with tiny digital-style skulls in a paler purple. Jesse had bought the nicest pair of black cowboy boots he could find, which, while not entirely practical—or comfortable—did still look like they went well with his tuxedo. He would have worn a ten-gallon hat with it, but Livi had shot down the idea almost immediately, telling him that the boots were acceptable as a nod to his personal style, but a cowboy hat was not—at least, she specified after he gave her the saddest puppy eyes he could muster, not during the ceremony itself.

“Okay, let's see the stupid hat,” she said, waving her hand. “I know you have it in there.”

“You know me so well,” Jesse said, reaching back for the hat. He plopped it on his head and grinned. “You know it's a look.”

“That's one word for it.”

“Your turn.”

Livi tossed her hair and stepped out.

It wasn't what he'd been expecting—she'd never told any of them what her dress was going to look like—but it suited her well. The dress was off-white and knee-length, with a spaghetti-strap top and purple trim that matched Jesse's tie on the sash around her waist and the bottom hem. The low heels she wore added only two inches to her height, bringing her up to just past his shoulder. She also wore gloves that went halfway up her arms in the same purple silk fabric dotted with skulls. It was a very Olivia Colomar look.

“You can't cry yet!” she hissed, putting her veil on. “If you start crying now, then everyone in there is going to start crying, and let's face it, Dad is the ugliest crier I have ever seen.”

Jesse laughed, which did help him focus on not tearing up. His little sister was actually getting married in three days—she was in her beautiful wedding dress and he was so happy for her he wanted to scoop her into a hug and not let go. But he resisted, offering her his arm. “Alright, let's go show the peanut gallery. Wanna take bets on who's gonna lose their composure first? I mean, after Rein.”

“Papa is going to cry three big, manly tears and that's it. Dad is going to start crying like a baby after him. Ana is going to just laugh at them.”

“I'm a gamblin' man, but even I know better than to take that bet.” They stopped outside the door to the room where their family was waiting. He could hear Reinhardt's grizzled voice and Ana's serene laugh as the conversation inside continued. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Why wouldn't I be ready?”

“Fair enough.” Jesse nudged the door open and stepped inside, and silence immediately descended.

Reinhardt buried his face in his hands and let out an undignified sob. Ana patted his shoulder, beaming at Livi and lifting her travel mug in a mock toast. Gabriel fumbled for his phone, one tear sliding down his face as he held up his camera to start taking pictures. Jack smiled, clearly fighting back tears, but he managed to choke out, “Gabe, look—our little girl is getting married!” before completely dissolving.

Gabe spent the next few minutes using his sleeve to wipe at his eyes in between taking an obscene amount of photos as Livi turned to show off the dress from all angles.

“Come here, come here,” Ana said, holding out her hand and waving Livi over. “Let me get a better look. Oh, darling, you look so beautiful—you and Satya are going to be such lovely brides!” Unless Jesse's eyes were deceiving him, Ana looked dangerously close to tears as well. “I'm so proud of you and the intelligent, compassionate woman you've become, and I'm sure your fathers would agree if either of them were in a fit state to talk.” She enveloped Livi in another hug. “I hope you know I see you as much as my daughter as Fareeha is, and I wish you all the happiness this life has to offer.”

Livi's cool mask of composure cracked all at once, sounding like a sniffle before she said, “Thank you so much, Ana. I'm so glad you could be here for my wedding.”

Reinhardt wailed and began fumbling around for something. A few moments later, he'd pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose. Jesse took over patting him on the shoulder, and he seemed to recover a minute later.

Once he and Livi confirmed with the stylist that their wedding ensembles fit them properly, they changed back into their regular clothes and took their wedding clothes with them. The six of them then booked it out to their respective cars—Jesse opting to ride with Ana and Reinhardt to discuss strategies. They had a game to get to.

* * *

“Seventy-five, seventy-five, seventy-five, seventy-five—” the Reaper called out, leveling his twin shotguns at Reinhardt's shield. There were already twelve foam rounds stuck to the front of the sturdy, clear plastic. McCree knew it was down to its last few hundred health, so he quickly combat rolled, his serape flying behind him, and threw down a beanbag.

“Flashbang—twenty-five, stunned,” he said smugly.

“You ingrate—” the Reaper snarled, but Reinhardt abruptly dropped his shield and took off, yelling, “CHARGE!” He collided solidly with the Reaper, who was still stunned, and smacked into a wall. “Three hundred. Dead for nine seconds.”

The Reaper picked himself up and dusted off his clothes. “Sombra! Where were you with that hack, huh? Could've used it right there!”

“You're not the only person fighting, you know!” Sombra yelled back from twenty feet away. “I had to keep Horus from sleeping Soldier!”

“Wait for me!” Reinhardt shouted, taking off as fast as his costume armor would allow.

“I'm the quick. _You're_ the dead,” McCree said, tipping his hat to the Reaper before hurrying after Reinhardt. He aimed his Peacekeeper at the back of Soldier: 76's head. “Seventy, seventy—”

Soldier whirled around, dropping an aluminum can on the ground while he felt thick foam smack into his stomach. “Helix, one-twenty—”

“That's forty back on you at point-blank,” McCree said.

“Biotic field, healing AOE. Where were we? Oh, right, one hun—”

“Biotic grenade!” Horus shouted, throwing a beanbag of her own on the ground between McCree and Soldier. “Enemy healing negated, ally health plus a hundred—” Horus hip-fired her biotic rifle at McCree “—and that's another seventy-five to max you out—”

“Hacking,” Sombra said, holding out her left hand.

“Flashbang!” McCree threw down a beanbag, stunning both Sombra and Soldier: 76.

“Seventy-five,” Reinhardt said, lightly tapping Sombra on the shoulder with his massive foam hammer. “Seventy-five. Seventy-five, and that's you dead.” Sombra groaned and stalked away to the spawn point.

McCree took advantage of the stunned Soldier to start shooting again. “Seventy—”

“Hundred—”

“Seventy—”

“Healing for seventy-five—” One of Horus's foam bullets pelted Soldier: 76 squarely in the temple. “Seventy damage—”

“Shadow step,” said the icy, gravelly voice of The Reaper. “Death Blossom.”

Reinhardt put his shield up just in the nick of time, allowing McCree to combat roll behind it, avoiding taking more than a few points of damage from the onslaught. Horus, too, was able to duck behind Reinhardt's shield, and then hit him with a sleep dart.

“Drop, Reaper. Death Blossom canceled, you're asleep for five seconds.”

“Your biotic field's gone, too,” McCree added to Soldier: 76. He fired three more foam rounds at Soldier: 76's head—one of them sticking comically to his visor—and announced proudly, “Now you're dead.”

“You only had two shots left in that thing!” Soldier: 76 said accusingly.

“Combat roll reloads Peacekeeper.” McCree took the moment of reprieve to load up his revolver again.

“Am I awake yet?” the Reaper asked sourly, still splayed out on the ground.

Reinhardt tapped him with his hammer. “Seventy-five. You are now awake.”

“ _Finally_ ,” the Reaper said, getting to his feet.

“Flashb—”

“Wraith Form.” The Reaper sprinted away, unable to be targeted for the next three seconds. As soon as the effect was over, though, Horus already had her sights trained on the Reaper. “Seventy!” she called after him. “Seventy!”

A whistle blew. “Game over! Team One wins!”

 _Oops._ It was a good thing the rest of their team had stayed on the objective, because if they hadn't, they definitely would have lost.

“Good game,” Jack said, taking off his tactical visor and tucking it under his arm. “Sucks to be on the other end of that flashbang, though.” He popped off the round that had suctioned to his visor and handed it back to Jesse. “Didn't hurt you with those Helix rounds, did I?”

“I promise that my pride was the only casualty,” Jesse joked. Livi strolled back, combing her nails through her hair and looking exhausted.

“That was a tough fight. _God_ , I hate that flashbang of yours right now.”

“Well, you _did_ hack me,” Ana said. She tugged off her hood and shouldered her bolt-action rifle. “That always pisses me off.”

Gabe walked back with his shotguns strapped to his hips and a bottle of water in his hand. His hood and mask was pulled to the top of his head. “We should see about getting more people to join us. I know we got a few already, but I feel like we've played against each other so much that we know how to counter each other.”

“You have a fair point,” Reinhardt said. “Perhaps I will put out a call on Instagram.” He pulled out his phone, setting his plastic shield and foam hammer on the ground. “Speaking of which, we should document Olivia's last Blackwatch match as a bachelorette! Everyone, costumes back on!”

Gabe capped up his water bottle and tossed it aside, pulling down his mask and hood in one fluid motion. He unclipped his shotguns and crossed them over his chest while Jack pulled down his visor and shouldered his rifle. Jesse held up his Peacekeeper, angling his left shoulder toward the camera, and Livi put her hand on her chin, and crossed her other arm, resting the magazine of her automatic pistol on her left shoulder.

“Say 'Blackwatch'!”

“Blackwatch!” they chorused.

They didn't see until after Reinhardt had posted the picture, but Ana had crept up behind them and aimed her rifle at the back of Jack's head. Everyone but him thought it was the funniest thing to happen all day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Ya binti” is an Arabic term of endearment that a mother would use for her daughter. Since Ana has Arabic voicelines, I felt like it was something she would say. If I messed up the translation, though, feel free to correct me!
> 
> Originally, the Blackwatch LARP session was supposed to be paintball, but I realized yesterday that a LARP session where they just act out their Overwatch!personas would be infinitely more hilarious so I changed my mind.
> 
> Next chapter, I PROMISE, will have some long-overdue McHanzo interaction.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shouts from the rooftops* FINALLY!
> 
> The song that Jesse closes with is [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=laVWyQnIicU). (I also stuck the clickable link right in the chapter, too, so you can all listen to it.)

Hanzo listened to the backlog of episodes for the next day and a half, practically nonstop. From Wednesday afternoon on, he constantly had at least one earbud in, letting Justice's lazy voice wash over him. The shorter episodes had a bit more humor in them—he would crack jokes with station staff, and even though the episodes were from months ago, Hanzo still felt like he was right there in the studio. But as Thursday morning melted into the afternoon, it slowly dawned on him that he knew the true identity of Justice the Cowboy. It should have been obvious, and maybe if he'd been paying more attention to the signs right in front of his face, he would have realized it a week ago. But clearly, Genji had known and deliberately not told him.

When _Showdown_ extended its broadcast from a half an hour to a full hour, Justice also announced that he'd created an Instagram account for the occasion and already had a few dozen followers. The moment he divulged his Instagram handle, Hanzo opened up his app—blue_dragon_archer85 long abandoned, but maybe worth a revisit now—and searched for Justice's username.

His was the very first profile that came up, and even though he had plenty more productive things to be doing at the moment, he ended up scrolling through Justice's Instagram feed in his office for the next twenty minutes. As soon as he saw the first pictures, he knew that Justice the Cowboy, radio host, was the same person as Jesse, devoted patron and muffin enthusiast.

Hanzo felt like a fool. He should have realized before. Who else had he met around here who consistently dressed with flannels and ostentatious belt buckles and cowboy boots? And when Hanzo thought back to when Jesse had first shown up, Hanzo had even asked him if he'd heard about the shop on the radio. “Somethin' like that,” was all Jesse had said, but what he'd meant was that he'd been the one to talk about them in the first place.

Jesse had called him “darling” right before walking out, and he'd given Hanzo a smile that nearly made him melt. He was kind and goofy and sweet and smart—he'd talked up Ninja Bakery on his show without any expectation of a reward or even thanks. He was unafraid to be himself, and he clearly had a functioning relationship with his parents, which was more than could be said for Hanzo.

He'd liked Jesse for who he was when he showed up, and he'd liked Justice for his on-air personality. Now that he realized they were the same person, when he took a step back to consolidate these two different halves of the same whole, it only took another few seconds for the absurdity of the situation to sink in.

The fact was, Jesse calling him “handsome” last Friday had thrown him for a loop but still filled him with a giddy sort of joy. Whenever Justice gave his glowing praise of Hanzo and the bakery and the muffins he'd worked so hard to perfect, there was a bubble of pride tinged with that nameless excitement you feel when someone you like appreciates your work. Jesse's parents pretty much flat-out telling him directly that Jesse had a crush on him didn't make him nervous—it had startled him, since he'd thought that maybe Jesse was just a natural flirt. But he'd still spent the past few days waiting for Jesse to walk in again, only to be disappointed; Jesse seemed to be avoiding the shop now, and Hanzo suspected it was because his parents had told him what happened.

But Hanzo wanted him to come back. He wanted to see Jesse again. He wanted to say something asinine like, “Thanks for stopping by, gorgeous” just to see how flustered Jesse would get.

He was in love with Jesse.

That realization felt like being buried under an avalanche of baking sheets. He didn't have _time_ to feel like this. If— _if—_ he were to try to pursue something with Jesse, he'd want to make sure he'd be able to invest the time and devotion that their relationship would need, the same devotion he suspected Jesse would show him, otherwise what would be the point? The last thing Jesse deserved was something half-assed and half-hearted. Would it be fair to spark something with him, knowing full well he might not be able to follow through? Wouldn't it be kinder to let him go now, to let him start to move on? There was a heaviness in his chest and a hollow, sharp ache reverberating through the back of his neck, disappointment settling in as he considered it. He didn't _want_ to just push Jesse away—he wanted to be selfish, to tell Jesse how much he liked him, even if it meant they'd hardly ever have time to see each other. But was that the right thing to do?

Genji opened the office door, took one look at Hanzo, and sighed. “I know you found the pictures.”

“I did.”

“So what's wrong now? I thought you'd be happy to know your dream cowboy is also cute _and_ interested in you.” He slipped into the office, closing the door behind him, and leaned up against it.

Hanzo sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I—I _am_ , but he—we're so busy with the shop. I don't have time for... anything, really.”

Genji shook his head, his expression somehow betraying exasperation and sympathy. “You work yourself too hard. To be fair, you work _all_ of us too hard.” He dropped into the seat across from Hanzo's desk. “Amélie leaves here early one or two days a week, Lúcio is off Monday mornings, Akande leaves early on Tuesdays. You and I, we're here every day, without fail. I'm surprised you haven't gotten sick already. Look, let's just... we close the shop at eight. Do we need to stay open so late? We only get a handful of customers between six and eight. Let's just start closing earlier. We can afford to close at six. Open later on Saturdays—eleven o'clock, ten at the earliest. Just stay closed on Sundays. We're only five people. Until we get a few more, we can operate with reduced hours. I've looked at the books,” Genji added when Hanzo opened his mouth to protest. “Listen to me. We don't have to implement it right away. We put out a notice—two weeks from now, operating hours change. People will adjust. They may not like it at first, but if a certain cowboy keeps talking about the shop, we'll still pull in new customers. Alright? We can make this work. _You_ can make this work. You just have to be willing to make sacrifices.”

“I see. And if we're talking about sacrifices, what is it _you_ plan to do about Zenyatta?”

Genji's eyebrows shot up, but he suddenly looked uncomfortable. “What do you mean?”

“You can't keep stringing him along, you know.”

“Me? Stringing _him_ alo—?”

“Is the lack of time your reasoning for not pursuing something with _him_ , or do you have another excuse?”

“I don't—there's no _excuses_ , I just don't know if he likes _me_ ,” Genji protested.

“Does anyone else ever come over from Harmony to return our sales receipts?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Do you talk to anyone else when you're over there in the first place?”

“Not really...”

“Does he talk to anyone else when he comes over here?”

“He talks to Lúcio, sometimes.”

“I think you already know that he likes you, too.”

“So what? Does it matter?”

“It does. If we're going to reduce hours so I can focus on my personal life, then you must do the same. Agreed?”

Genji buried his face in his hands, and for a second, Hanzo thought he was going to change his mind. Then he looked up and nodded. “Alright, fine. But this is mostly for _your_ benefit, not mine.”

“If that makes you feel better, sure.”

“So does that mean that the next time Jesse comes in here, you're going to ask him out, or what?”

“I... I'll figure something out. He hasn't been here in a few days, so I don't know when he plans to come back.”

“His dads really embarrassed him, huh?”

“I suspect that may be his reason, yes.”

“Well, I'm sure you'll figure out some solution. Anyway, move,” Genji said, standing up and pointing at the computer on Hanzo's desk. “I need to update the site with our new hours. And you should probably be the one to tell the others.”

Hanzo couldn't argue with that logic. He pulled his hair back, put his phone in his pocket, and let Genji sit at his chair while he went out to talk to Amélie, Akande, and Lúcio. He had a feeling the three of them would be pleased to hear they wouldn't have to work all the time.

* * *

When Genji came back from his afternoon deliveries, Lúcio high-fived him. “I can't believe your plan actually worked!”

Genji gave a mock bow. “Yeah, plus now, Hanzo might actually get laid. I'd say it's turning out well for everyone. Sundays off, shorter hours, and everyone's mood improves. I see no downsides to this.”

“And you get to hang out with Zenyatta more, too!”

“Oh, he... he mentioned that?” He hadn't expected Hanzo to be _that_ forthcoming.

“Yeah,” Lúcio said. “Something about how the reduced hours are supposed to let you guys have more personal time so he's gonna ask out the cowboy and you agreed to talk to Zenyatta, right?”

Genji bit his lip. “Yeah, I... I guess I have to now. The thing is, I really don't know if Zen likes me or not. It's just... he's so hard to read.”

Lúcio squeezed his shoulder. “Hey. I'm sure it'll be fine. I bet he _does_ like you. You just need to ask him.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Genji wasn't so convinced, though.

* * *

Jesse was still sore from all the running around he'd done on Wednesday when he woke up on Friday. He made a cup of coffee at home, opting out of a full pot and instead stretching his back while he waited for the Keurig machine to surrender a delicious, single cup of joe. He was hungry, too, and some obnoxious, teasing part of him said that he should go to Ninja Bakery for a muffin.

Maybe on Monday he'd go back. Ten days would be more than enough time for last Friday's humiliating display to be (mostly) forgotten, right? Besides, on Monday, he wouldn't have Livi's impending wedding hanging over his head. Today, he wouldn't be able to focus, and focus was something he needed if he was going to end up talking to Hanzo again. Otherwise he might just make a fool out of himself again.

He glanced at the black garment bag hanging on the back of his door and wondered, not for the first time, how one went about telling someone they liked them. Livi only recently stopped keeping details of her personal life secret—when she and Satya had started dating, all she had told him was, “I have a girlfriend now.” He'd asked her once for details, but she never told him.

Since then, though, that had changed. He suspected it had a lot to do with Satya herself. She needed details, thrived off interactions where words weren't left open to interpretation. Livi had adjusted the way she communicated with her, and it had turned into her opening herself up more.

And now she was getting married, in just thirty short hours.

Well, he was happy for her. She was the best sister anyone could ask for, and she would never do anything to deliberately interfere with his life.

Hunger gnawed at his stomach again, and he settled on toast for breakfast. It was quick, easy, and just enough to take the edge off. All he had to do was get through today and enjoy his weekend, and then he'd confront his issues on Monday. Quick and easy.

With that pleasant thought, he ate, showered, and left the apartment, taking his time to get to work. The two pieces of toast he'd made weren't enough to fill him up, so as a last-ditch compromise to himself, he stopped at Harmony and picked up one of Ninja Bakery's muffins—this time, he was so late to the coffee shop that he didn't even see Genji—that he needed, along with another coffee that he definitely _didn't_ need.

He was feeling a bit more cheerful by the time he left Harmony, which was unsurprising considering he'd just eaten one of the best muffins in existence. He'd lingered so long at the shop that he made it to work shortly before eleven, meaning he barely got a chance to do more than wave at Orisa before she had to go to her recording booth.

He sat at his desk, waffling among topics for his show today. If he had his way, he'd talk about muffins some more, but he didn't want to incur Zarya's wrath by shamelessly plugging a shop that wasn't an official sponsor, so he kept that one down. He didn't want to talk about Livi's wedding that weekend, either—she'd flat-out forbidden him from discussing her personal life on the radio, and he respected that. He also didn't talk about his early life, before his papa and dad had adopted him. That was a bit too personal for the ears of countless strangers. He strongly considered a topic along the lines of how to cope when a close family member embarrassed you, but if his parents happened to be listening (and he suspected they would), that could be misconstrued as him being genuinely angry at them. While it was true that he was a little salty, it was something he could get over relatively easily.

In the end, he decided on how to recover when you personally had made an ass of yourself, especially in front of someone you were trying to impress. He figured a topic like that would bring in a lot of callers who would be willing to air their own embarrassing stories with the promise of relative anonymity. He could pull that off—all he had to do was open with his own embarrassing story, and he was sure some masochistic soul would call in to talk about that one time they, too, made an ass of themselves in front of a new partner or someone's parents or their boss. Hell, Jesse had more than a few stories like that.

Around eleven-forty, he strolled into his own recording booth and put on his headphones. Through the glass, he could clearly see Jamie and Mako munching down on their own (probably pilfered) box of muffins that Angelo had most likely picked up from Ninja Bakery. Jamie had a smudge of chocolate smeared across his cheek, but Jesse knew better than to try to help him out—Jamie was a human car crash in progress, and the only person who could talk any amount of sense into him (at least when he bothered) was Mako. Meanwhile, Mako was rolling around in his chair, bumping into the back of Jamie's every chance he got. Clearly the two of them were going to be incorrigible today.

Orisa signed off, Jamie cued up the music, and Jesse finished off the last of his frap while he waited for his clock to strike twelve. As soon as the song faded out and Mako gave him a thumbs-up, he started his show.

* * *

Hanzo waited for the right moment, for some sign of what he should do. He had a half-baked idea that just might work, but it was going to require careful planning.

He wished Jesse had just come into the shop this morning, but apparently, he wasn't going to get that.

So he waited. Jesse started his show with his usual opener, and then launched into asking about how someone went about redeeming themselves after an embarrassing incident. He cited his example, a story that sounded familiar until Hanzo realized he was referring to last Friday, when he'd dropped by the bakery (although Jesse didn't mention it by name) and “accidentally on purpose” flirted with the owner.

“I mean, the guy is gorgeous—you can't blame me for that—but the look on his face? Yeah, I don't think he was thrilled with me,” Jesse said with a chuckle that could have almost been a sigh. “Anyway, I booked it out of there so fast I forgot to pay. I went back a few minutes later to pay an' fortunately didn't have to confront the guy again, but I haven't been back since. It wasn't my proudest moment.”

Hanzo threw more flour into the bowl under the mixer, waiting as the first few callers regaled listeners with their own stories and how they recovered from them—if they had at all. Some of them never managed to quite bounce back after their horrendous impressions. Then Jesse played the first song, and a commercial break aired.

He kept waiting. A few more people called in, but he only half-listened, preferring to mentally focus back in when it was Jesse talking. Soon it was nearing twelve-forty, and Jesse hadn't gotten any calls in a few minutes, filling the space with rambling, only tangentially related to the initial topic. Another song, another commercial break, a plug for sponsors.

Hanzo wiped his hands off on his apron, pulled out his phone, and pointed at Genji. “Remember your promise,” he said, starting to dial the number he already had memorized. He walked into his office, closed the door, and turned off the radio in the room. He took a steadying breath and hit send.

His hands were already shaking before the end of the first ring. He gingerly sat down, waiting. A second ring. A third—

“This is Justice the Cowboy, you're on the air.”

Hanzo didn't know how he found his voice. “Hello,” he said carefully. “I find myself with a bit of a problem, and I was hoping you might have some advice.”

“Oh?” Jesse said, his voice betraying a slight tremor, and Hanzo knew Jesse recognized his voice and was trying to fight back nerves. “Go ahead an' tell me, an' I'll see what I can do.”

“Very well. For the past two weeks, the place where I work has been frequented by a particular individual. He is kind and funny and attractive, and earlier in the week, it was brought to my attention—by his parents, no less—that he cares for me, although I fear I should have deduced that from the first day. It seems I'm not as observant as I thought I was.”

“I hear ya, pumpkin. That's not all there is, is there?”

“No,” Hanzo said, smiling in spite of his nerves at Jesse calling him _pumpkin_. “My problem is that, as it happens, I care for him as well. This realization was rather jarring, because with it, I also realized that I know him from another context besides him visiting me at work, and I had liked that part of him too, before I even knew it was him. Putting these two people together and discovering that they're the same person was shocking but also a bit of a relief. So now I know that I like him and that he likes me.” He was starting to ramble, and he had to find a way to stop. “I don't know what to do. He must realize that, considering my career, I will not have as much time to spend with him as I would like. What advice would you give me?” He finally shut up, waiting.

Jesse took a few moments to respond. Hanzo's heart felt like it would hammer out of his chest. “Wow,” Jesse said finally. “Well, I guess my advice is, if he's as great a guy as you're talkin' him up to be, then he would be able to deal with the time issues. You're busy, I get it. But dates don't have to last hours an' hours. If he cares about you an' you show him you're willin' to give it a shot an' communicate, I don't see why it wouldn't work. Besides, I'm sure he's willin' to work around your schedule, too. You just have to show him that it's what you want, too. Does... does that make sense?”

“Yes. It does. Thank you.”

“An', uh, if you don't mind me sayin' so, you should probably ask him out pretty soon. He's probably been waitin' for awhile to make a move but never found the right time.”

“I believe you're right. I'll ask him right now,” Hanzo said, and then hung up. He waited for a few more moments, and then redialed.

* * *

Jesse wasn't sure what the hell had just happened. One minute, Hanzo had been on the line, pouring his heart out, practically confessing his feelings to Jesse right on the air, and the next minute, he was announcing that he was going to ask him out right now and hanging up. Hanzo knew who he was, didn't he?

Unless there was someone else that Jesse had never seen before, someone who oddly mirrored his situation who Hanzo liked instead of him. Was it even possible for someone else to have walked into Hanzo's life around the same time as him?

Probably.

Fighting down disappointment—and purposefully avoiding looking at Jamie and Mako, both of whom had fixed him with identical sympathetic expressions that looked too out-of-place on their faces—he said, “Well, that was unexpected, but I hope he gets the answer he's waitin' for—oh.” The caller light was blinking again. “We got another call.” He hit the button to patch them through and said, “This is Justice the Cowboy, you're on the air.”

“Jesse, this is Hanzo. I wanted to ask you—would you like to go on a date with me?”

Jesse covered his face with his hands. He tried to fight it, but he couldn't help but laugh. “An' here I thought it was only my family that had a dramatic flair a mile wide. You really take the cake, Han. Yeah, I... I'd like that. Would Sunday work for you? Tomorrow's all booked up for me.”

“That works just fine. As it happens, I'm busy tomorrow as well.”

“Great, I'll—I'll swing by the shop this afternoon an' we can talk about it then. Is that alright?”

“I look forward to it,” Hanzo said, and Jesse could practically see the smile on his face as the line disconnected again.

“Well,” Jesse said, talking into empty airwaves again. He couldn't wipe the grin off his face—he was too giddy. Hanzo had actually asked him out. Hanzo _liked_ him! “That was one of the most unexpected things to ever happen to me on the show, but I'm glad it did.” He flashed Mako and Jamie a thumbs-up; Jamie returned it, but Mako had gotten out of his chair and begun dancing around the sound booth. “An' that wraps up my show for the day, but let me leave you with this song that, to be fair, I was gonna play anyway, but now it just seems more appropriate. This is Metric with '[The Shade](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=laVWyQnIicU).'” The song faded in and Jamie made a slashing motion across his throat, indicating that Jesse's mic was now off. He jumped up to start dancing with Mako, and Jesse pulled off his headphones, put his head down, and laughed.

It was really all he could do when the relief crashed over him and he realized that, no matter what embarrassing things his parents might have done or said, Hanzo liked him. He almost hoped Livi and their parents hadn't been listening, because he couldn't wait to tell them himself.

* * *

Hanzo exhaled sharply as soon as he hung up, grinning to himself. The hard part was over. Putting his phone back in his pocket, he got up and went back into the kitchen.

Only a few minutes had passed—Jesse was still talking, but Hanzo couldn't quite process what he was saying; he sounded just as thrilled as Hanzo was—but everything seemed to have shifted. It felt like the world was spinning a little bit faster, like all the sharp edges had been filed down. Amélie threw her arms around him, babbling in French, sounding like congratulations. As soon as she let him go, Akande also crushed him in a tight hug, ruffling his hair. Hanzo didn't even care. He couldn't believe he'd actually gone through with it, and now Jesse was for certain coming over to the shop this afternoon and they were going to have an actual conversation.

Genji hugged him too, offering a cheeky grin and an _I told you so_ , and of course Genji had known from the beginning that Justice and Jesse were the same person, and it looked like the rest of the shop—Lúcio skated into the back for a minute to offer his congratulations as well—had been in on the plan, but Hanzo was still riding so high on excitement that he didn't mind in the slightest.

As Hanzo went back to working on baking the Colomar-Vaswani wedding cake, the final song of the broadcast started playing, and he found himself bopping his head to the music. It was upbeat and sweet, and though Hanzo had never heard it before, he immediately loved it—and maybe as he listened, it made him blush a bit because of course it was a love song, and it made him think of Jesse. He'd probably be smiling like a fool for the rest of the day, but that was alright. It had been a long time since he'd felt this happy.

Genji really _had_ told him so.

* * *

Jesse didn't stay at the studio a moment longer than he had to. As soon as the rest of his work was done, he booked it out of there, not even pausing to make faces at Jamie and Mako, who were on a break from work and snuggling in the back of Jamie's beat-up Corolla.

The whole studio had already heard Jesse get asked out on-air, and though a few of them—Torbjörn among them—had checked on him to make sure he was actually fine with such a public thing, once Jesse assured them that yes, he was thrilled that Hanzo had asked him out and didn't care that it was during his show, everyone offered their congratulations. Orisa had spun him around, practically dancing. Zarya punched him affectionately in the shoulder—he suspected he'd have a bruise there the next day—and Angelo had raised his coffee cup in a mock toast.

Jesse finally made it to Ninja Bakery just before four. He paused outside the shop, doing a quick check to make sure he wasn't drenched in sweat. Then he spent another few minutes trying to decide if he should button up his red flannel or leave it unbuttoned. Unbuttoned was more casual, suggested that he wasn't trying super hard to look good, but he only had a white T-shirt on underneath it. Maybe if his shirt had had a design or something on it—in the end he buttoned it up, leaving the top three undone. Then he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, brushed the scruff of his beard, and strolled into the shop like he hadn't just spent the last five minutes fretting over his appearance.

“Oh, hey, Jesse,” said Lúcio, grinning at him. “Lemme just get Hanzo for you. He's been waiting for you.”

Jesse pretended like that statement on its own wasn't enough to make him blush. He shuffled around the shop for a few moments, taking it all in like it was the first time he'd seen it. Udon up on the wall behind the register seemed to be smiling at him now.

Hanzo walked out of the kitchen, pulling off his apron and hanging it up on a hook near the door. He smiled the moment he caught sight of Jesse, and Jesse realized it was the first time he'd actually seen Hanzo smile. He could get used to seeing that look on his face.

“Hello,” Hanzo said, stepping out from behind the counter. He touched Jesse's wrist and gestured toward the door. “Let's take a walk.”

“Sure thing.” Jesse's immediate reflex was to tack a “darlin'” on the end of it, but he decided to forego it for the moment until he knew that Hanzo was comfortable with it. He followed a half a step behind Hanzo out the door. Hanzo's black T-shirt was coated with flour where his apron hadn't covered it, and he smelled like cookies and muffins. Jesse could get used to that.

As they left the parking lot, Hanzo reached up and pulled the elastic tie out of hair, letting it fall to his shoulders. Jesse's mind immediately went to imagining the two of them in bed, Hanzo above him with his hair falling into Jesse's face while they kissed, and that was _definitely_ not a safe thing to think about right now. To distract himself, he said, “So, Sunday then?”

“Sunday,” Hanzo agreed. “Genji and I have discussed it and starting in a couple of weeks, we'll be modifying our operating hours. Closing a little bit early during the week, half-days on Saturday, and on Sundays, we'll be closed completely. We're also considering working out a sponsorship with your studio,” he added.

“Torb an' Zarya would like that,” Jesse said with a grin. “Besides, Zarya already yelled at me last week for talkin' about your place too much. Somethin' about free publicity. So if you do that, I'll have an excuse to keep talkin' about you.”

Hanzo blushed behind his hair. “I would hate to deprive you of that,” he joked.

“But this Sunday is still alright?”

“Yes. Genji has pointed out—rightfully—that I work too hard. I'm at the shop every day, without fail. I spend more time there than I do at home, and he believes I've earned a day off. Besides, we do have two other bakers who will be working, along with Genji who also has some skill with a mixer and Lúcio, of course. They can handle being without me for a day. Besides, after tomorrow, I think I will definitely have earned that day off.”

Jesse chuckled. “What's tomorrow? I know you're busy, but...”

“Just a particularly challenging cake I've been working on for awhile. The clients are happy with the design, but the execution requires a certain amount of technical skill I haven't had to use in awhile. I can show you pictures on Sunday. It's just in poor form to show off a client's cake before the client has had a chance to see it.”

“Fair enough, an' that works out just fine since I'm busy pretty much all of tomorrow anyway.” He briefly contemplated telling him he was the best man in his sister's wedding, but decided that bringing up a wedding right now was venturing into awkward territory. “Should be nice an' recovered by Sunday, though. Any thoughts on what you wanted to do?”

“I hardly ever get time to really enjoy my lunch anymore,” Hanzo said. “I was thinking that we could meet for lunch in the park.”

“Like a picnic?”

“Yes. Is... is that alright with you?”

Hanzo could have suggested wrestling a crocodile and he probably would have said yes. “Sure, that sounds great. It's simple. I like it.”

“And if we so choose, the date doesn't have to stop at lunch, but we can... what is the saying? Burn that bridge when we get to it?”

Jesse snorted with laughter. “It's 'cross that bridge,' actually. You just mixed your metaphors there.”

Hanzo made an exasperated noise at the back of his throat. “I'll take your word for it.”

The continued around the block for a few more minutes, Jesse eventually having the presence of mind to suggest they exchange phone numbers in case something came up. By the time they circled back around to the shop, Hanzo's hand had found his, and their shoulders bumped into each other. This close, Jesse realized that Hanzo seemed to be walking a little stiffly, but it didn't seem like he was in pain, so he didn't say anything. Besides, they were still talking, exchanging silly work stories that had each other laughing.

Jesse could really get used to this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm... there are two chapters left, and two and a half days of my weekend left. INTERESTING...


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last 3,000 words or so of this was... not planned. But I realized at the very beginning of writing this chapter that if the wedding was at a hotel, and Jesse has a room there... anyway, check out the updated rating and tags, and enjoy the extended chapter. We're almost done!

Saturday was chaotic. Jesse wasn't used to waking up at seven in the morning under any circumstances, let alone to his parents knocking on his front door. While he yawned and stretched, slowly gathering up everything he'd need for the day, Jack made a pot of coffee for the three of them and Gabe called Livi to coordinate their schedules.

Livi and Satya were with the Vaswani family, checking into their hotel, and Jesse, as the best man, was expected to be there soon. As far as he could tell, the two of them were sectioned off from each other so they didn't see each other before the wedding, which meant that as soon as he arrived, he would end up being the messenger whenever Livi needed something—Gabe and Jack had opted to step back, considering how out of their element they were.

They finally dragged him out of his apartment a half an hour later, after leaving him just enough time to down a cup of coffee and roll into a pair of jeans. He wouldn't change into his tuxedo for a little while longer, which was fine with him; considering how much he paid for it, he didn't really want to wrinkle it before the ceremony.

They piled into Jesse's parents car, Jesse stretching out in the back seat for a few extra minutes of sleep, and Gabe grinned at him in the rearview. “Hungry? We can stop for a muffin.”

“Shut up,” Jesse said, but he was grinning too. “Were you listening yesterday?”

“Us?” Jack asked.

“Of course not.”

“Never.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

“Somehow, I find myself unconvinced,” Jesse said.

“But the real question is, what happened when you went to go see him?” Gabe asked.

Jesse chuckled, rubbing his eyes. “Went on a walk. Talked for a bit. We're havin' lunch on Sunday. I'd tell you where, but I don't wanna see you there.”

Jack scoffed. “Come on, it's not like we'd ever interfere with your personal life or anything.”

“And if we did, it's not like it'd be in a way that negatively affected you or anything,” Gabe agreed.

“Yeah, all of our interfering has only had a positive effect on you. I mean, thanks to us, Hanzo realized you liked him, which directly led to him asking you out. So really, we did you a huge favor.”

Jesse didn't really have a rebuttal to that, so he made a noncommittal grumbling sound and crossed his arms over his chest.

He must have drifted back to sleep at some point, because even though he knew it was a solid half an hour to the hotel, it felt like the ride only took a few minutes. He was pretty sure he heard the radio playing during his nap and it influenced his dream, but when he woke up as they pulled into the hotel parking lot, he couldn't remember what his dream had been about. Not that it mattered, because as soon as they parked, he was wide awake, snatching his garment bag off the hook next to the door and darting out of the car. Jack went around to the other side to grab the bags that contained his and Gabe's tuxedos while Gabe went around to the trunk and pulled out their suitcases.

Karishma and Niraj Vaswani were waiting for them in the lobby when the three of them walked in. Already a handful of guests were milling around and talking, and through the half-open doors on the right, Jesse could see that one of the ballrooms was already decorated with reds, purples, and golds. There were staff members setting up chairs in front of the _mandap_ , where Livi and Satya would be sitting during the ceremony.

Jesse went to shake the hands of Satya's parents, but both of them threw their arms around him and squeezed him in between Gabe and Jack, who they also pulled in for a group hug.

“So good to see you all again!” Karishma gushed. She finally disentangled them and patted Jesse's cheeks. “And you! Olivia has been waiting to see you again! Come on, I'll take you up to your room and then show you to where the brides are.”

“Uh—” Before Jesse could get a chance to even say goodbye to his own parents, Satya's mother pulled him off toward the elevators while he fought desperately to keep hold of his suitcase and garment bag.

“Are they doin' okay?” he managed to ask once they got on the elevator. “Livi an' Satya, I mean.”

“Oh, of course! They're both a little tired, naturally. The henna took hours to finish so they were up late last night, but the stylists are already here working on them and Olivia has been wondering where you are.”

Jesse chuckled as they stepped off on the third floor. “Yeah, I don't know why I didn't realize I'd need to be here earlier. I'm not used to wakin' up before nine.”

Karishma laughed and squeezed his shoulder. “It's quite alright! Most of the guests won't arrive for several more hours, and everyone is usually late to Indian celebrations anyway. The invitations all say noon but it won't start until one-thirty or so.”

“Really? Do my parents know that? I think most of Livi's guests might be operatin' on a more... Western approach to punctuality.”

“They might not, but I'm sure Niraj will tell them.” They stopped in front of room 312. “This is your room. Do you need to do anything before I bring you to Sati and Olivia's room?”

“Um, this is probably gonna be my last chance to shower, isn't it?”

“I believe so.”

“Right. Lemme just shower an' unpack. I won't be any more than a half an hour.” He glanced down at his garment bag. “Eh, make that forty-five minutes. Or you can just tell me what room they're in, an' I can just go up there when I'm finished.”

“Of course, they're in 529. Don't take too long! Olivia only has the Amaris to keep her company, and the stylist is very frustrated with Olivia's hair.”

Jesse let out an undignified snort of laughter at the thought; he hadn't realized just how difficult it might be to style Livi's hair when it was almost completely shaved down on the left side. He wondered if all the photos of her today would be taken from her right side. “I'll be there as soon as I can,” he said, accepting his key card from Karishma Vaswani and ducking into his room.

He unpacked as quickly as he could and took a quick but thorough shower. Once he was scrubbed and clean, he dried off and changed into his tuxedo, boots, hat, and all, made sure his key card and his phone were in his pocket (he maybe hoped Hanzo would text him this morning, but he hadn't, and Jesse wanted to respect his space; they hadn't even had an official date yet, and Hanzo had said he would be busy all day anyway), and then hurried back to the elevator. According to his watch, it had only been about thirty-five minutes since Satya's mother had left, but he had a feeling Livi was probably dying for some company besides Ana and Fareeha.

He knocked on the door to room 529 and was taken aback when Ana answered instead of Karishma. “Jesse! There you are! I was wondering when Gabe and Jack were going to bring you here.”

“Sorry, Ana. I had to shower an' change first, an' I'm not really great at wakin' up early, either.”

“Oh, that's fine, Kari was telling me that Indian events always start late anyway, so you'll fit right in with the family. Come on, come on, Olivia has been waiting for you.” Ana tugged him into the suite, past clusters of Satya's family—mostly aunts and cousins giggling over henna patterns—and to a side room, where Livi and Fareeha were relaxing. Reinhardt was in the room, too, regaling them with a story from one of his first Blackwatch LARP sessions.

As he walked in, Fareeha collapsed on the bed, laughing. Livi looked up and put her arms up for a hug. “Jesse! Finally! I've been waiting for you!”

“Sorry, Liv,” he said with a chuckle, giving his sister the hug she wanted. “You know me, I'm not really a mornin' person. Well, actually, I'm barely even a person.”

She let out an undignified snort, carefully hiding her face behind her hands. Last night, henna had been applied to her hands and feet and even though it was no longer wet, he could tell that she was still not used to it. She kept her fingers spread carefully as if she were still worried that she would smear it on something, and she took care not to touch the arms of the chair. “Well, you got that right, but you don't need to be a person today. Heh, I love Sati's family but they can be overwhelming. All of them sitting out there makes me so nervous.”

“How's she handlin' it?” Jesse asked. “Somethin' like this would probably give her sensory overload.”

“Yeah, so she's in the other room with just one or two other people at a time and they have an ambient music channel on in her room to keep her calm. And Hindu weddings typically use a lot of incense but they're toning it down with this one because she gets really overstimulated with smells. They're making sure she's being taken care of since I can't do it right now.” Livi sounded bitter, like she wanted nothing more than to march into Satya's room and stay with her and comfort her through any overloads she might have.

“They also have the garden set up to be nice and quiet and isolated with minimal lighting that she can go to if she needs to,” Fareeha added, mostly to Livi. “She'll be alright for a little while longer.”

“Yeah, I know,” Livi said with a sigh. “She'll probably need to take a break between the wedding and the reception.”

The door behind Jesse opened up again, and a lighter-skinned woman that Jesse didn't recognize poked her head in the room. “Hey, Olivia!” she said cheerfully. “How are you doing today?”

“Just great, Mei,” Livi said with a smile. “Thanks for helping us put this together.”

“Oh, not at all, it's my job! The photographer should be here any minute, too.”

“Great! I can't wait to see Lena again. Can you ask her to start with Sati first? Oh, Jesse, really quick, can you go find Papa and Dad and make sure they're getting settled in? And make sure they know the ceremony probably won't be starting until like one o'clock or one-thirty, not noon. And then bring them up here for some pre-wedding pictures—they'll probably love that.”

“Sure thing,” Jesse said, tipping his hat and making his getaway while Livi started asking Mei more questions. Now the trick was figuring out where his parents actually were.

* * *

Livi waited until she heard the door close behind Jesse, and then stuck her head in the living room area to make absolutely sure he was gone. Satisfied, she closed the bedroom door behind her, shutting them out. “Okay, Mei, has the cake arrived yet?”

“No,” Mei said, confused. “It's not supposed to arrive until around one o'clock. Why?”

“Good. Okay. Hanzo Shimada should be the one dropping it off, right?” She was pretty sure she already knew the answer to this—Hanzo had told Jesse flat-out that he would be busy all day, and he seemed like a perfectionist.

“Well, I imagine so.”

“Great. If it is him, when he drops the cake off, can you let him know that the brides have extended him an invitation to stay? Him and anyone else he has with him,” Livi added, realizing that Hanzo might be bringing his brother to help out and not wanting to exclude the younger Shimada.

“Sure, but... well, why?”

Livi glanced over her shoulder toward the door, even though she knew it was closed. “It's kind of a surprise for Jesse. He has a thing for Hanzo, and yesterday, Hanzo finally asked him out. They made plans to meet up tomorrow I guess. As far as I know, Jesse has no idea that Hanzo made our wedding cake, and Hanzo has no idea that Jesse's involved with this wedding. It's amazing what kind of shenanigans you can get into when no one in your family has the same last name,” Livi added with a laugh. “Anyway, I'm pretty sure that if one of them knew the other would be here, we would have heard about it by now. So Sati and I discussed it, and we decided to extend Hanzo an invitation to stay for awhile.”

Mei nodded so hard her hair nearly fell out of her bun. “Of course! And not a word to your brother, right?”

“Yes. And the same for Hanzo—I want it to be a surprise for both of them. If he asks, just... tell him that we're grateful for all his hard work and we'd really appreciate it if he stayed for the reception.”

“Of course. I'll do what I can.”

“Great,” Livi said, looking around at Ana, Fareeha, and Reinhardt. “Which means all of you at some point may need to run interference.”

“Interfere?” Ana said, widening her eyes and holding a hand to her heart. “Me? Never!”

Fareeha pressed her face into the mattress and let out an undignified snort of laughter.

* * *

The cake was cooled off—Hanzo had finished preparing the batter last night to put it in the oven first thing in the morning. It was the only thing he intended to work on today; even the muffin responsibility had been handed off to Akande. Now the cake was out and cooled on the wire racks, so Hanzo gingerly transferred it to the sheet where he would decorate and then eventually transport it.

He was able to completely ignore Amélie and Akande watching him anxiously, instead focusing on delicately frosting the bottom tier with a bright violet frosting. The middle tier went on next with red frosting—which was trickier because now he had to keep his hand steady to avoid getting red frosting on the bottom tier. He compensated for it by leaving the bottom quarter-inch untouched, opting to edge it with a border of frosting that was a burnt yellow color with edible glitter mixed in to give the appearance of gold. But that would come later, after he'd carefully placed the top tier, frosted it with more violet, and added more details.

The next two hours he spent gingerly turning the cake to look at it from all angles, creating flowers out of pink and orange frosting, gently adding edible gold and silver leaf to the red and violet frosting. As he worked, he couldn't help but be impressed with his own taste as well with the Colomar-Vaswanis' eye for contrast. They had chosen an excellent design concept, and even though it would be a challenge, he felt confident in his ability to execute it.

He was nearly done just after eleven-thirty, which put him slightly ahead of his schedule. Genji was set to arrive with their rented delivery truck at twelve-fifteen to drive him over to the venue, while he stayed in the back with the cake and held on, offering up prayers to Ganesh that the cake would survive the trip. Because he was doing so well on time, he moved his hands slower as he finished up edging each tier of cake. The gold frosting only went across the bottom of the middle tier, while the top and bottom tiers got a silver-toned frosting made to sparkle the same way. As the finishing touch, he crafted one final lotus flower out of frosting and placed it on top of the cake. The two bridal figurines he would place on the top in the middle of the lotus once the cake actually arrived at the venue. He didn't want the figures to jostle and squish the flower in transit.

He finished the last of it just as Genji pulled up to the back. He opened up the rear of the van and helped Hanzo move the cake from the counter to the parking lot, where they had a cart for the cake ready to go. It was a tense few minutes as they transferred the cake to the cart, rolled it to the van's elevating platform, and raised it to move the cake into the van. It was a wonder Hanzo didn't have a heart attack five times, especially when it looked at one point like the cake was about to topple off the cart.

But the cake made it in safely, and Genji set about locking down the wheels of the cart and strapping it into place while Hanzo hurried back into his office to change into clothes that weren't completely covered in flour and frosting—black jeans, a black dress shirt, and a purple T-shirt underneath. He took a few extra seconds to readjust his hair, grabbed clean aprons for both himself and Genji, waved goodbye to Amélie and Akande, and hopped into the back of van. He slammed the doors closed, Genji climbed into the front seat, and they were off.

Genji normally drove faster than Hanzo was comfortable with, but they'd allotted themselves extra time to get to the venue, which was a half an hour away under ideal conditions. Genji drove slowly today, his steering thankfully cautious as he avoided potholes, eased to his stops, accelerating gradually. Hanzo was terrified to take his eyes off the cake, still paranoid that something would happen—they would make an abrupt turn, they would get rear-ended, a semi would come barreling down out of nowhere and T-bone them, the cart would simply fall over, taking the cake with it. There was only so much Genji could control. The rest, of course, was in Ganesh's hands. Every time they paused at a red light, Genji would look back at him and ask him if the cake was okay, and every time, Hanzo would give him a thumbs-up.

It seemed to take hours before the van finally rolled to a final stop. Genji turned off the engine and unbuckled his seat belt. “Alright, let's get this bad boy where it needs to be.”

“I'll go find Mei. I'll be back as soon as I can.” Pulling his clean apron over his head, Hanzo waited until Genji came around to the back and opened up the rear doors before he stepped out. He was shaking so hard that for a minute, he wasn't sure his legs would support him.

Genji patted him off the back, sitting on the floor with his own legs dangling from the back of the van. “Hey,” he said gently. “We made it. We survived. Take a minute. We got this.”

Hanzo nodded. “Be ready to take pictures,” he said, rolling his shoulders back. “And put on your apron.”

Genji made a dismissive noise but stood up anyway, and Hanzo went to find Mei.

Fortunately, he didn't have to look very far. He followed the sound of talking and laughter and ended up bumping into Mei right outside a ballroom where a lot of people in their brightest, jewel-toned clothing were milling around. He was pretty sure he heard the distant click of a photographer's camera.

“Oh! Hanzo! There you are!”

“I'm not late, am I? Indian weddings usually—”

“Start late, yes. No, you're fine, not late at all!”

“Good. Genji has the cake in the van—can you show us where you want it?”

“Sure, sure.” She followed him back outside to the van and watched anxiously as Genji rolled the cart to the platform and lowered it slowly. Once it touched down, she breathed a quick sigh of relief. “Okay, come with me.”

The three of them—Mei in the lead and Hanzo and Genji rolling the cart behind her, keeping the cake braced carefully—went back inside through the delivery entrance, down the hall, and into a second ballroom that had been set up for the reception. The room was decorated similarly to the cake, in reds and purples, golds and silvers. The caterers were setting up the food along one wall, and Mei directed them to set up on a stage, accessible with a ramp. As soon as they got the wheels locked down, Hanzo gingerly put the brides on top and exhaled slowly, taking two steps back. It was finished.

Genji immediate pulled out his phone and started taking pictures. He heard more clicking that didn't sound like it was coming from near the door, but before he could look, a light-skinned woman with messy brown hair, dark-tinted aviator shades, and a couple of piercings through the cartilage of her left ear seemed to appear right in front of him. She had a high-powered Nikon slung around her neck and a tripod over her shoulder.

“Hiya!” she said brightly. “Lena Oxton, Blink Photography. Here's my card. Mind if I get some pictures of you and the cake before you leave?” She said this all very quickly, flicking out two fingers with her business card between them. Hanzo accepted it, feeling a bit dazed all of a sudden.

“Um, sure, that's fine.”

Mei smacked her forehead as Genji put away his phone and stepped behind the cake to stand next to Hanzo. “Oh, that reminds me,” Mei said. “Hanzo, Genji, the brides wanted me to extend you both an invitation to stay for the reception.”

Lena kept taking photos. Hanzo and Genji exchanged bewildered looks. “They do?” Hanzo asked. “That sounds... unusual.”

“Well, it is, but they said they appreciated all the hard work you put in on the cake and working with them, so they wanted you to stay.” Mei bit her lip for a moment, as if internally deliberating something. “Between you and me, I would stay. It's going to be a really nice party, and it would be a really sweet gesture.”

“Yeah, you should stay!” Lena said. “The more the merrier!”

“Well, I have to return the van,” Genji said, turning to Hanzo, “but you know what? You should stay at least. It's a good idea.”

“I'm a bit underdressed,” Hanzo said, indicating his jeans which, while black, were still denim.

“I'm sure they won't mind,” Mei said.

“But I—”

“Come on, Hanzo, the _brides_ want you to _stay_ ,” Genji insisted. “It's bad luck to say no to a bride on her wedding day—saying no to two sounds like the most abominably bad idea in the world.”

“Is that true?”

Genji shrugged. “Hell if I know. But come on, you worked your ass off on this cake. You deserve to hang out for a few hours.”

“But I'm already taking tomorrow off—”

“So you can start your time off early.”

“How am I going to get home?”

“I still have the car back at the shop. Once you're ready for a pickup, just text me and I'll come get you. No big deal. Stay and have fun.”

“I don't know anyone here.”

“You know the brides, and you know Mei.”

“Yeah!” Lena said, jumping and letting out a whoop of excitement. “And if all else fails, they got booze here!”

Hanzo sighed. “It seems like I don't have a choice in the matter.”

“I'm sure you'll be fine,” Mei said with a reassuring smile. “Besides, it's good networking. People are always going to need wedding cakes and birthday cakes and anniversary cakes. Once they see what a great job you did, I bet a lot of people are going to start ordering from you! I hope you brought business cards.”

“Hey, yeah, that's a great idea!” Lena said. “My wife's birthday is coming up! Maybe I'll get a cake from you!”

He couldn't really argue with that logic. As Lena darted back out of the reception hall to what sounded like the actual ceremony starting, Genji clapped him on the back, pressed a fistful of business cards into his hand, and hopped off the stage. “Just text!” he called over his shoulder, twirling the van keys around his finger.

“Come on,” Mei said, beckoning him out of the reception hall and toward the gardens in the back. “They have this whole place rented out. You should see how they decorated the garden—it's absolutely stunning!”

It actually was nice. It was overflowing with greenery, but it was set far away from everything else so it felt like a soothing oasis, quiet and relaxing. For the first time since last weekend, he felt himself truly calming down.

He wasn't sure when Mei left him alone out there, but when he strained his ears, he could still hear the wedding ceremony in progress, so he stayed outside. If Mei needed him, she knew where to find him.

He let himself slump in one of the lounge chairs, tugging his hair out of the knot and letting it fall free, and pulled off his apron. He felt silly wearing it now when there was no cake in sight and he was technically off the clock anyway.

He didn't think he actually fell asleep—maybe it was more of a trance. But what felt like only a few minutes later, he heard footsteps behind him. He blinked, coming back to himself, and turned.

Satya Vaswani-Colomar was walking into the garden, head down and her hands over her ears. She looked like she was trembling slightly before she sat down in another lounge chair, where she finally let out a breath she must have been holding for awhile.

“Satya?” he asked gently, sitting up. “Are you—”

She held up her index finger, cutting him off. She took a few steadying breaths, and Hanzo realized she must be recovering from sensory overload. His immediate reaction was to ask her if there was anything he could do to help, but he suppressed that—she'd nonverbally asked him to stop talking. He needed to take a step back and let her recover on her own.

After a few more minutes—Hanzo kept an eye on her as her shoulders gradually lost tension—her hands dropped and her eyes seemed to lose their glassy sheen. She blinked slowly and turned to him.

“Better?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, offering a half-smile. “Yes. Thank you.”

“That's what... all this is for then? For when you need a retreat?”

“Yes. Normally they put the smokers out here, but I can't tolerate cigarette smoke, so they're in front by the lobby now.”

“Is the wedding over then?”

Satya's smile widened. “Yes, it is. Lena took some excellent photos, I'm sure.” She looked down at her hands, running her fingers over the intricate henna designs trailing up past her elbows before stopping, settling her gaze on her wedding ring. The fingers of her left hand fidgeted with a necklace she wore, a long string of black and gold beads. “I'm glad you chose to stay, by the way,” she added, standing up. She readjusted the gauzy violet fabric of her sari, adorned and edged with silver detailing at the hems. “Come with me. We're about to cut the cake.”

“Of course.” Hanzo got to his feet, tossed his apron over his shoulder, and walked with her into the ballroom.

Stepping from the gardens into the reception hall felt like an onslaught of sound, but Satya closed her eyes for a moment and soldiered through it. She led him through the throng of wedding guests to the front of the stage, where Olivia Colomar-Vaswani was standing.

She wasn't alone, and Hanzo wasn't prepared. Next to her were three other people. Gabe Reyes had his hand on Olivia's shoulder, laughing at something she'd said while Jack Morrison, on her other side, nearly choked on a mouthful of champagne. But it was Jesse that Hanzo couldn't look away from, Jesse in a dark tuxedo with an impractical pair of dark cowboy boots, Jesse plopping a ten-gallon hat on his head and tilting it back, Jesse smiling like he was on top of the world, Jesse cleaned up and looking so handsome that Hanzo thought he might be dreaming.

Hanzo had seen one of the most elegantly-decorated venues in his life just today, more brightness and richness than he'd gotten used to, and yet somehow, that smile on Jesse's face was the most beautiful thing in the universe.

“Sati! Hanzo!” Olivia called, catching sight of them and waving. “There you are!”

* * *

Jesse didn't think the day could get any better. The wedding ceremony went off without a hitch, and while Satya went to excuse herself from the overwhelming smells and sounds, Livi brought them into the reception hall where champagne immediately started flowing. The families mingled, and Jesse eyed the cake appreciatively—whoever had made it had done an incredible job. Livi made a crack that had their dad doubled over, fighting to keep champagne from spraying out of his mouth. And then Livi waved over their heads. “Sati! Hanzo! There you are!”

_Hanzo?_

Jesse got whiplash from how fast he spun his head in the direction she was waving, but it was true, there he was, approaching them next to Satya, looking just as stunned to see him as he felt to see Hanzo—stunned but pleased.

Hanzo had his hair down, gently framing his face, and the black pants and dress shirt he wore, white apron tossed over his shoulder, stood out against the sea of bright colors. Jesse wasn't sure he could look away, but he knew he didn't want to, not when Hanzo was looking at him like that, like the whole world had dropped away and it was only the two of them.

“Hanzo,” Livi went on, although to Jesse it sounded like her voice was miles away, a faint echo through his mind, “you've met my parents, Gabe Reyes and Jack Morrison, right? And of course, my brother, Jesse McCree. Papa, Dad, Jesse, Hanzo made our wedding cake!”

Of course he had, because the universe had apparently conspired to bring them together before Jesse even knew who Hanzo was.

And Livi had _known the whole time._

That thought brought him sharply back to reality. “You _knew_?”

“Eh, maybe a bit,” Livi said with a grin. “But come on, are you really that mad?”

Jesse looked back at Hanzo, who was still gazing at him. He wasn't even mad, just a little annoyed, but even that faded away with Hanzo still looking at him like that. “Nah, not even a little. I can't be.”

It occurred to him much later that they had probably planned this from the beginning, but he didn't care. Livi and Satya cut their wedding cake while Lena darted around snapping pictures of them shoving cake into each other's faces. The afternoon floated by in a mix of food and cake and music and taking photos for Instagram, and the newlyweds danced to their first song together as a married couple. Hanzo ended up by his side at the table most of the evening, which Jesse wasn't complaining about in the slightest. Every once in awhile, Hanzo would answer a text message on his phone.

“Don't worry,” he said, “it's just Genji wondering if I need a pickup yet. I told him no.”

“I take it you're havin' a good time?”

Hanzo grinned. “I've had worse.”

As afternoon faded into the evening and more and more people got up to dance, Jesse nudged his shoulder. “Come on, you wanna dance with me?”

“I, uh... I can't dance very well.”

“Neither can I, but slow dancin'? It's not that hard.”

“I mean...” Hanzo rapped his knuckles against his calf. There was a dull metallic sound muffled by fabric as he did so. “It's difficult for me. My legs are prosthetic.”

Jesse looked down. “The whole thing?”

“From my knees down.”

“Oh. Well, I ain't gonna make you dance if you really don't wanna, but it's easy—all you gotta do is hang onto me an' sway.”

Hanzo thought it over, taking a bite of a tamale. “Very well,” he said finally. “Lead on, cowman.”

Jesse snorted with laughter, stood up, and offered Hanzo his hand.

The song was a slow-paced one. It felt completely natural to pull Hanzo against him and slowly shift his weight from foot to foot. Hanzo sighed, melting into him and resting his head on Jesse's shoulder, wrapping his arms around Jesse's waist. Jesse closed his eyes and leaned his head against Hanzo's, letting the rest of the world fall away again.

“I still can't believe Livi knew the whole time an' never said anythin',” he mumbled as they swayed.

Hanzo _hmph_ ed. “I suppose I'm used to it. Genji has been manipulating me for years now, so I have developed a bit of a tolerance for it.”

Jesse wanted to bury his nose in Hanzo's hair. He still smelled like baked goods. “He's always been like that, huh?”

“Not... not always. He used to be very withdrawn. It took him a long time to get to where he is now. He asked us to start calling him Genji when he was seventeen, and although my parents were initially resistant to it, they changed for the better when they realized that by affirming and respecting him, he started to come out of his shell. And then when he was able to finally start hormone therapy, he became a much happier and carefree person. Of course, I was thrilled—I'd always wanted a brother. Ever since then, he's become more confident and outgoing, and that includes doing things like this. It turns out, he knew who you were two weeks ago and never told me, either.”

Jesse chuckled, tightening his arms around Hanzo. “I guess our families are pretty similar then, at least in terms of younger siblins' messin' with us.”

Hanzo turned his head and smiled into Jesse's neck. “Apparently so.”

The song must have changed three times, but Jesse was reluctant to let Hanzo go. He had a feeling they would still see each other tomorrow, but tonight had a magical, fragile sort of sweetness to it, and Jesse wasn't ready for it to end. The worst part was not knowing when Hanzo would leave, so he didn't know how many more moments for tonight he would have to savor.

“Jesse?” Hanzo asked, his voice a rumble against Jesse's chest.

“Hmm?” Jesse pulled back just far enough to look at him.

Hanzo whispered, “I'm glad I decided to stay today.”

Jesse brushed a few strands of hair back from Hanzo's face, letting his fingers linger there. “Yeah, me too.”

He didn't think he made a conscious decision—he simply realized that Hanzo's face was suddenly very close to his and Hanzo's hand was skimming over the nape of his neck and his eyes were closing and he felt Hanzo's lips brush against his. He sensed Hanzo pulling back slightly and he instinctively chased after the kiss, pressing even closer to Hanzo. Hanzo sighed, deepening the kiss, and for Jesse, it was a perfect moment suspended in time.

And then the moment ended and Hanzo pulled back, and this time Jesse let him go, their bodies still against each other, just holding. Jesse hated to ruin the moment, but he still murmured, “So when were you plannin' to go home?”

Hanzo looked at him, confused. “I didn't realize I was that bad at kissing.”

“No, that's—” Jesse choked on a laugh, leaning his head against Hanzo's shoulder. “Kinda the opposite, darlin'. I was just wonderin' how much time I got left with you tonight.”

“I... I don't know. What time is it?”

“Has to be around eight-thirty. Pretty sure my parents already went up to their room.” Jesse suddenly remembered the key card in his pocket.

“It _is_ getting rather late then. I suppose I should probably call Genji and ask for a pickup soon... but then again, he's probably still in the middle of closing for the night.”

Jesse swallowed, his throat going dry. “You, uh, you still got tomorrow off, right?”

“Yes, why?”

“Well...” He teetered for a moment, wondering. It felt like he was on a precipice, deciding whether or not to jump. All it would take was one tiny nudge. “I was just thinkin', y'know, since you don't work tomorrow an' I got a room here, you don't _have_ to go home unless you really want to. You could... y'know, sleep in my room. I got a shower an' everythin',” he added, as though that would be the deciding factor.

“I see,” Hanzo said softly. “And you think that you can just wear the nicest tuxedo you can find and ply me with dinner and dancing and holding me and kissing me, and you can just ask me to sleep with you and you think I'll just say yes?”

“Hanzo, that's not—”

Hanzo kissed him again, light and teasing. “It worked.”

Jesse laughed, hugging Hanzo to him. “I guess I should get used to people messin' with me, huh?”

“Only when it's me. Are you going to show me to your room or not?”

* * *

This was absolutely the best decision he'd made all week, maybe all year. The door to Jesse's room had barely closed behind them before Hanzo kissed him again, knocking his hat off. Jesse wondered if they were moving too fast, if they should be waiting—did this count as their first date? Was that what this was?—but he stopped caring as Hanzo help him undress, tugging off his tuxedo jacket, his cummerbund, loosening his tie. He kicked off his boots, unbuttoning Hanzo's shirt as he fell back on the bed, tugging Hanzo over him. He knew he really wanted to get both of them naked right now, but his goal was at war with his desire to spend as much time kissing Hanzo as he could. He ran his hands under Hanzo's dress shirt, scraping his teeth along Hanzo's jaw (who let out a breathy moan) as Hanzo pulled his arms free and tossed the shirt aside. The T-shirt underneath it came off a moment later, Hanzo grabbing it by the hem and pulling it right over his head before helping Jesse out of his dress shirt.

Hanzo unzipped his pants, palming Jesse through his underwear, and for the first time, he felt a little out of control. He gasped, the sound swallowed when Hanzo leaned over him and kissed him, mouth open and his tongue sliding against Jesse's. He felt himself hardening against Hanzo's gently-squeezing hand and automatically bucked up into his touch, whimpering slightly.

Hanzo broke the kiss, raising his head a fraction of an inch. “You like that?”

“Like it better if your pants were off,” Jesse said, unsure how he found the brainpower to be pithy when Hanzo was smirking at him like that.

“I'm taking my time, cowman.”

“You can do that next time,” he murmured, reaching up to hold the back of Hanzo's head. “Just fuck me.” He pulled Hanzo down, brushing his lips against Hanzo's. “Been waitin' for weeks. Just want you.”

Hanzo groaned, returning the kiss, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Jesse's trousers and pulling them down. Jesse shimmied his hips to help get his pants off before starting on Hanzo's pants. Hanzo settled between his legs, ran his fingers over Jesse's chest, and whispered, “I assume you brought lubricant and condoms?”

“Heh, yeah. Bedside drawer there. Better to have it an' not need it, an' all that shit.”

“A wise sentiment.” He helped Jesse tug off his underwear, Hanzo's own pants still half on, and Jesse was a little annoyed with that. That went away as soon as Hanzo's lubricant-coated finger circled his hole, a light tease that had Jesse squirming until it finally slipped inside. Jesse gasped, raising his hips, almost hating himself for how needy he must have looked until he realized that Hanzo couldn't look away, his gaze transfixed like he couldn't get enough of watching Jesse react.

 _I can make this work._ When Hanzo pressed a second finger inside him, Jesse's eyes fluttered closed, his back arched, and his free hand, the one that wasn't bunched into a fist on the sheets, found his own cock and he started pumping, letting out a moan as broken as he could make it. “Mm—more, _fuck—_ come on, hon, I can take it—”

“I bet,” Hanzo whispered, leaning over him and whispering right into his ear, his hair falling into Jesse's face, “I could make you come just like this. You look so good like this, you know.” He kept thrusting with two fingers, sending sparks of pleasure shooting up Jesse's spine, his body bearing down on those fingers scissoring inside him, chasing after more. He was so dizzily close to the edge already and his body ached for it, but his brain was still mostly in control.

His hand shot out, grabbing Hanzo by the wrist, stilling his fingers. “Don't,” he rasped. “Hanzo—come on, just fuck me already.”

“And when you ask like that, I can't say no,” Hanzo said, withdrawing his hand with a sly smile. Jesse helped pull Hanzo's jeans and underwear off, holding him while he balanced and removed his prosthetics. Hanzo let them fall to the floor and crawled back over Jesse. A few more kisses, Hanzo fumbling in the still-open bedside drawer, and barely a minute later, and Hanzo aligned himself with Jesse's hole and pushed in.

Hanzo went slowly, carefully, and Jesse was grateful for that—two fingers hadn't quite been enough to prepare him, but he'd been so close to slipping that he didn't want to risk it, not this time. He thought he saw fireworks with the burning drag of Hanzo's cock sliding home inside him, but he realized he'd been squeezing his eyes shut and he opened them with a gasp. He tried to relax his muscles, to let himself float, and then Hanzo was finally fully hilted in him.

“Mm— _hai—_ Jess, God, you're so—” Hanzo groaned “—so tight—so hot—” He rocked his hips, pulling out an inch or two just to snap back in, and Jesse let out a sharp moan. “Is it—is it too much? Should I st—”

“Keep goin', keep goin'—” It all rolled into a heady blur. The head of Hanzo's cock dragged against his prostate, pulling a needy sob out of him even as his whole body melted with pleasure, the tip of his own cock leaking across his stomach. Hanzo fucked into him harder and Jesse met every thrust, the burn fading as he adjusted to the stretch, crying out in ecstasy whenever Hanzo bore into him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been fucked like this, so good and so deep that he was reduced to a trembling heap. The fingers of Hanzo's left hand twisted through Jesse's right, hands squeezing together with a pressure that increased with every thrust.

He wanted it to last forever; he wrapped his legs around Hanzo's waist to try to take him deeper, to keep him from pulling too far out, choking on another sob as the angle changed. It was perfect, Hanzo hit his prostate every time, and Jesse knew he couldn't last much longer, not with this kind of intensity, not with the sounds Hanzo was dragging out of him—not with the sounds he was dragging out of Hanzo.

He rocked through the push and pull, letting Hanzo sink into him, trying in vain to take more—his body screamed for release—the nails on his free hand scraped down Hanzo's back—Hanzo suddenly picked up the pace and Jesse moaned, “God—darlin', _yes_!” and it felt like he was flying, his climax hitting all at once, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over him until he thought he might drown, and Hanzo covered Jesse's mouth with his own to stifle the sounds he made, still fucking him through it.

And then Hanzo was coming too, his hips twitching as he rocked into Jesse once, twice, three more times before he finally stilled, panting against Jesse's skin. His fingers slackened and he gingerly—and maybe a little reluctantly—pulled out and got rid of the condom while Jesse reached for the tissues next to the bed and wiped at the come splattered across his chest. Cleanup taken care of, the two of them burrowed under the covers, Jesse spooning up behind Hanzo and kissing his neck.

“I assume you're satisfied,” Hanzo half-joked.

“That's one word for it.” He didn't say that there was something intimate about it, more intimate than sex usually was, that he enjoyed. He didn't say that he was looking forward to falling asleep next to him and waking up next to him tomorrow morning. He just nuzzled his nose into Hanzo's hair and closed his eyes.

Hanzo let out a soft sigh and whispered, so softly that he wasn't sure he was meant to hear it, “The things you do to me, Jesse.”

Jesse blinked as Hanzo turned in his arms to face him, Jesse trying to pull himself back to consciousness. “What're you talkin' about?” he mumbled.

“Nothing,” Hanzo murmured. He brushed back a lock of Jesse's hair. “I could get used to this.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I actually got porn in here. They already love each other!!
> 
> *slams fists on table* TRANS GENJI TRANS GENJI TRANS GENJI


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WON NANOWRIMO!
> 
> Come pester me on [Tumblr](http://transdracosmalfoy.tumblr.com) where I'll be talking about future projects, including this completely bonkers idea I have for doing something like this every other month (January, March, May, July, September, AND November). To do that, though, I'll need your help--send me prompts you think would make a good multi-chapter fic like this! I'll write for basically any pairing that's in this fic. As for my off months... well, in December at least, I've got this idea to basically write the rest of the smut that's missing from this fic. We'll see how that goes.

_One year later._

Hanzo kept his eyes closed for a few minutes longer after waking up. Sunday mornings had turned lazy and he enjoyed not having to be anywhere for awhile. Besides, the sheets were still warm from his and Jesse's shared body heat and he wasn't quite ready to abandon his cocoon.

Sunlight was pouring in through the blinds, so he pulled his pillow over his head to block it out. It couldn't quite block out the hiss of the griddle from the kitchen or the sudden smell of pancakes cooking, and Hanzo's stomach abruptly growled. Well, if Jesse was already up...

He rolled over, lifting the pillow off his head. The bedroom door was open and he thought he smelled coffee brewing, too. It looked like it was time for him to wake up, too.

He threw off the covers and groped for his prosthetics. He took another look around and grabbed the nearest shirt he could find, tugged open the blinds, and opened the window a crack, just far enough to let some fresh air circulate through the room.

“Han? You up?” Jesse's voice carried clear from the kitchen, and even though he'd gotten used to hearing it every day, Hanzo still loved how warm Jesse sounded whenever he talked to him.

Resting his palms on the windowsill and looking out, he said, “Yes. I'll be out in a moment.” It was still early—no later than seven-thirty—and on a Sunday morning, everything outside seemed still and calm. For a few seconds, he let serenity wash over him—along with a light breeze from outside that skimmed the freshly-shaved sides of his scalp—and then walked out into the living room.

“Mornin',” Jesse said from the kitchen, flipping over a pancake while Hanzo went to the TV and turned on the Xbox. “You want some coffee?”

“I can get it.” Hanzo searched through YouTube channels until he found their favorite chillhop livestream channel, skipped past the ad, and set down the controller. He wandered into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Jesse's waist, resting his head between his shoulder blades. Jesse threaded the fingers of his free hand through Hanzo's and flipped over another pancake.

“I wasn't expecting you to be up this early,” Hanzo murmured. “As always, you are full of surprises.”

“An' soon I'll be full of pancakes. I mean, they're not your muffins or anythin', but they're pretty good.”

Hanzo chuckled into the back of Jesse's shirt, nosing aside his ponytail. A lot had changed in the last year, not the least of which was their respective hairstyles. Jesse had decided sometime around March to forgo cutting his hair entirely, and it now hung halfway down his back. On the other hand, only two months ago, Hanzo had started buzzing down the sides and back of his scalp, leaving the rest of it alone. The new hairstyle along with the piercing through the bridge of his nose made him feel a little younger than thirty-three. “I'm sure they're excellent.”

“Just figured you'd be tired of makin' food all the time.”

“Not at all.” Hanzo kissed the back of his neck. “It's something I always enjoy. Although I have to say that it's a nice break to have you make something for me instead. What's the occasion?”

“What? Like I need an occasion?”

Hanzo slipped a hand up Jesse's shirt and immediately started tickling his side. Jesse giggled and squirmed, swatting at his hand before finally saying, “Okay, okay! I figured since we're not doin' Blackwatch this weekend, we could just have a relaxed day at home.”

“Hmm.” Hanzo's hand stilled but stayed under his shirt. Hanzo had let himself get dragged into Jesse's family's silly LARP game a few months ago, and they'd changed the day to Sunday to accommodate his schedule. At first, he'd been reluctant to join in since it seemed like a waste of time, but it had allowed him the chance to brush off his archery skills (albeit with foam arrows), and within two matches, he was actually enjoying himself and looking forward to coming back. Then others had joined in—Genji and Zenyatta (who had finally started dating a few weeks after Olivia and Satya's wedding), Amélie, Akande, and Lúcio, even Hana at Harmony Coffee and some of Jesse's coworkers, like Zarya, Jamison, and Mako.

But Jamison and Mako had flown out to Las Vegas over Halloween weekend to get married and weren't set to come back until later on this week, and then five or six others canceled after that, so today's Blackwatch match was canceled.

“I suppose that's a good reason,” Hanzo said finally. If it was an excuse to spend more time with Jesse, he would take it.

Jesse finally set down the flipper and turned in Hanzo's arms. He gave Hanzo a long, lingering kiss, cradling his face, and even though Hanzo didn't really have knees, he imagined they would be going weak right about now. And then Jesse leaned back, got a look at his shirt, and burst out laughing. “Hon, that shirt is ridiculous on you.”

Hanzo looked down at the shirt he was wearing. It was gray and said _Hot Mess, Blessed, and Cowboys Obsessed_. Jesse had worn it the night before to be funny because he barely knew what a football even was, let alone the first thing about the Dallas Cowboys. It was a bit long for Hanzo, but aside from that, it fit him perfectly. “And whose fault is that?”

“I mean, I'm not complainin' or anythin', you look cute. I just didn't expect to see you wearin' it.”

“What's yours is mine now, cowman. I believe that's on the lease.”

Jesse chuckled. “Whatever you say, hon. How many pancakes d'you want?”

“Surprise me.” Hanzo didn't really want to let him go, but he needed coffee and he suspected Jesse did as well, so he reluctantly pulled his arms away and went to the cupboard for their coffee cups.

A year wasn't all that long, really. It seemed like only yesterday they'd woken up to Hanzo's phone buzzing in the pants he'd left discarded on Jesse's hotel room floor. Jesse had fished out his phone and mumbled, “It's Genji” before handing it over and dozing back off. What on Earth Genji wanted from him at five in the morning on his day off, Hanzo hadn't known.

“What is it?” he'd grumbled. “I was sleeping.”

“Where?”

“Where, what?”

“I'm assuming you're okay, but where _are_ you?”

“Eh? Still at the ho... tel...” He'd groaned quietly, hoping he wasn't disturbing Jesse. “Sorry. I forgot to let you know. I, uh... I stayed with Jesse last night.”

“Oh, _really_?” Genji said, the annoyance in his voice quickly giving way to amusement. Hanzo had at least told him that Olivia was Jesse's younger sister, so Jesse's presence wasn't a surprise. “Sounds like someone had a good time last night then.”

“Sounds like someone needs to learn how to mind his own business,” Hanzo hissed.

“Okey-dokey,” Genji sing-songed. “Well, if you need a ride, I'll come and get you, but let me guess—you probably won't need me.”

“Not anytime soon.”

“Okay, go back to sleep then,” Genji had said before hanging up the phone.

Hanzo had hoped that would be the most awkward thing to happen to him that day, but barely three hours later, they'd been woken up again: this time, by a knock on the door.

“Hey, Jesse?” someone that sounded like Gabe said through the door. “You up?”

“Mm, hang on,” Jesse called back, rolling out of bed. He'd limped to the drawers, pulled on a pair of sweatpants—Hanzo watching blearily through half-opened eyes—and went to the door, finally opening it. “What's up?”

“Are you coming down for breakfast or what? I mean, you don't have to, but Liv and Satya are leaving in a few hours. Figured you'd want to see them before they went on their honeymoon.”

“Oh. Yeah, just...” Jesse looked back at Hanzo, and Gabe followed his eyes. Gabe suddenly grinned. Hanzo waved sleepily before realizing he should probably have been embarrassed to be caught in Jesse's bed by one of Jesse's fathers—especially with both of their clothes still strewn on the floor.

“Just what?”

“Is there gonna be room for both of us?”

“I'm sure we can make that happen. I'll let them know you'll both be down in a few minutes.” Still grinning, Gabe strolled down the hallway toward the elevators, and Jesse closed the door.

 _At least he likes me_ , Hanzo had thought, slowly trying to drag himself back into consciousness.

Of course, Jesse's whole family had liked him. It helped a lot to know that Jesse's fathers and his sister had all conspired at some point to bring them together, although they wouldn't have tried if Jesse hadn't liked him to begin with. And maybe that first breakfast with all of them had been a little awkward, but it was a good kind of awkward where he didn't think people were silently criticizing him or thinking that he wasn't good enough for Jesse.

There had been a lot of breakfasts between then and now. Hanzo savored every one—the days he got to start and end the day with Jesse McCree were infinitely better than the ones that he didn't. Moving in with him about six months ago had been a decision he hadn't taken lightly, but it was one he was glad he'd made. As always, he'd been worried for awhile—he was so used to living with Genji that he wasn't sure how he'd adjust to sharing space someone else, someone different—but he'd gotten used to it, the two of them quickly acclimating to the other's routine. Jesse had grown accustomed to waking up earlier in the day now, thanks to Hanzo's business hours, and Hanzo had gotten used to sleeping in late on the weekends. It was hard to believe how much had changed in such a short amount of time, but what was more unexpected was just how easily their lives intertwined. It felt natural, and if asked, Hanzo would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about making a more permanent change. Truth be told, he'd spent a lot of time over the past three or four months thinking that he really wanted to marry Jesse.

They'd talked about it a few times in an abstract way, neither of them voicing their opposition to the idea, but there hadn't been a formal proposal yet. But that was fine. He didn't mind waiting.

He poured them both their coffee and dumped five spoonfuls of sugar in his own and set them on the table just as Jesse spun away from the griddle with two plates of pancakes. “Are you ready for the best pancakes of your life, darlin'?”

“I suppose that all depends on whose recipe you used,” Hanzo said with a meaningful glance at the box of Bisquick still on the counter.

Jesse set one of the plates down in front of Hanzo, shaking his head. “You wound me.”

“I'm sure they'll be delicious. They may be Betty Crocker's recipe, but they were made with love.”

Was Jesse _blushing_? Hanzo hadn't seen him do that in awhile—at least not at the mention of the word _love_. It was kind of cute. “I love you,” he said, poking Jesse's shoulder as he finally sat down.

“I love you, too,” Jesse said, his blush deepening a bit, “Now eat your damn pancakes.”

“So bossy,” Hanzo said. He reached for the syrup and poured a little onto his pancakes before picking up his silverware and cutting into them. Almost immediately, his knife clanged against something that sounded metallic, and definitely _not_ like a pancake. He lifted the top one and caught a glimpse of something shiny, like white gold.

 _Oh._ “I suspected you had ulterior motives,” Hanzo said, joking to cover up how fast his heart had started beating as he pulled a ring out from between the top two pancakes. _This is really happening now._

“Maybe a little,” Jesse said with a nervous smile. “I know we talked about it a little but I... I wanted to make it official. So, officially...” He slid out of his seat and knelt down next to Hanzo's chair. “Hanzo Shimada, light of my life, will you marry me?”

Hanzo barely waited until the words were out of Jesse's mouth before flinging his arms around him and kissing him hard. His heart was still pounding in his chest and his ears were ringing but right now, he knew he wanted to be with Jesse for the rest of their lives. “Yes,” he murmured, pulling back just far enough to speak. “I'll marry you.”

He felt Jesse's face crack into a smile and then he was being pulled to his feet, Jesse's arms wrapping tightly around him as they kissed. Jesse slid the ring on his finger without looking, and Hanzo clung to him, their breakfast forgotten on the table.

Jesse as his husband? He could get used to that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some last-minute wrap-up in this chapter. You know how when you're halfway through writing something and you get an idea that changes the course of the chapter? According to my outline, Jesse and Hanzo weren't supposed to get engaged. This was just supposed to be fluffy and domestic. Happy accidents and all.
> 
> *Joseph Fink voice* Hey, I love you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for your support! It really does mean the world to me!


End file.
